The Hand of Fate
by Yih
Summary: Harry goes back to the past to change history by stopping Tom Riddle from becoming Lord Voldemort.
1. Turn back the pages of history, 1999

**Story Note: **I needed something serious after getting stalled on_ The Wager!_ so this is entirely different. It will go heavy into trying to keep the characterization accurate and to justify the characterization as well. This obviously (as you will read) takes into account a completely different outcome than what is canonical from the books. I can't say exactly where I veered off, but that won't matter much since this will skip back in time. I hope you enjoy this as this is my first Voldemort-centric fic in a while after _Fallen_ and _In the Absence of Memory_.

I have a twitter, **yihfic**, link on my profile as well, where you can bug me to update and get updates. I've been kind of writing little bits of _The Wager! _on it when the mood strikes.

**Plot Note:** I mainly started writing this because I've tried to read quite a few Harry goes back in time to try and change the future on purpose or by accident and I thought I would try to do a take on this popular plot. This will be written more in line with _From the Ashes_, but not to the level of word count, unless you want to see very random updates that might take months. The chapters should be longer than _The Wager!_, and it probably won't be updated as rapidly as I had when I was on a roll with that one, but who knows? Encouragement works wonders on me.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Turn back the pages of history/1999**

There was nothing left.

No one that mattered was alive.

Ron had died a year ago and Hermione had died just two days before. The others and their faces were like a blur in Harry's mind. Their screams as they'd died, their mutilated bodies, and the final sight of their corpses haunted the little sleep he was able to catch.

Harry often thought about _what if…_ things had been different. He stared at the special time turner Hermione had been working on for the last year. In theory, she had proposed if the time turner could turn back time, was it not also possible for it to change timelines?

He pondered on his last conversation with Dumbledore. They had spoken of nature vs. nurture. Dumbledore had always wondered, having learned the extent of Harry's less than ideal childhood how he had managed to not fall into the shadows.

Harry, as he had gotten older and wiser, had resented Dumbledore for leaving him at the Dursley's even as he understood the reasoning. Who knew if Voldemort was truly gone? And why tamper with the sacrificial magic that had saved him in the first place? Yet, those years had been miserable and it wasn't until he reached Hogwarts that he realized how much his life had been lacking.

He had every reason to turn out like Voldemort, but he hadn't. He didn't resent muggles. He didn't have the burning hatred in his heart to spurn him into revenge against those that had looked down upon him. He had no desire to kill his awful family.

Why not? Was it really true, that fate was predetermined? Had he simply been born with a good heart that was impossible to corrupt? Was the same true for Voldemort? Had he truly been born with an evil heart that needed no encouragement to do all those horrible deeds?

Maybe it was foolish of him; maybe he was getting delusional; maybe he was already insane. And yet, Harry didn't believe that an innocent baby could possibly be evil from the beginning. It wasn't possible to be born evil. His circumstance might not have been enough to turn him toward evil, but what did he know of Voldemort's?

He was being soft, sentimental. Harry understood how depraved his enemy was, but he could still hear Hermione's voice echoing in his head: _"You know, I'm not saying he's justified because he's not, there's no way you can defend what he has done, but if he was always this powerful and others feared him because of that, maybe, just maybe, what he lacked was love and friendship." _

If not for Hermione and Ron, and the rest of his friends, how would Harry have turned out? He liked to think he would still be the same, but he knew that wasn't true. If everyone feared him, if everyone doubted him, if that was all true, wouldn't he have leaned in Voldemort's direction?

Harry had often been told he was foolish. He was foolish. He picked up the special time turner. There was a crack down the middle from when Hermione had dropped it before she died. It was just a theory, honestly, and in all likelihood even if he twisted it around and around, nothing would happen. There would be no turning the pages back on history, but _what if…_

What if… he could change the timeline?

What if… he could go back and try to keep Voldemort from becoming Voldemort?

Harry laughed maddeningly as he twisted and twisted the time turner, closing his eyes tightly as he fiercely, fiercely wished upon wishes that he could go back to before Tom Marvolo Riddle became Lord Voldemort.

**TBC**

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**A/N:** I'll be honest, stories that get supported heavily with reviews tend to get written more quickly because I get encouraged. If you'd like to see this continued, give me a little feedback on what you think about the story, what you speculate will happen, or just leaving a quick note to tell me to keep going.

I just finished my two month stint of Surgery and I'm starting Family Medicine tomorrow. I don't know if that means I'll have more time or not, but who knows?

Released on May 2, 2010


	2. When the dust settles, 1936

**Note:** I have taken liberties to use what canonical knowledge I want and if I don't directly reference it, you may safely assume that it probably is not in the story.

As for if this story is going to be slash or non-slash, I think the votes are pretty even between 3 groups: (1) slash (2) non-slash (3) don't care. I think for right now, since Tom is young, it'll be general for now. I won't promise it'll turn into slash, as I won't promise it'll remain general. I'll let the story dictate where it decides to take me. Either way, this relationship between them is going to be extra complicated.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**When the dust settles/1936**

The year, according to the Daily Prophet, was 1936.

If Harry remembered correctly, Voldemort – no _Tom _– had been born in 1926. He would be ten this year and in a year he would start Hogwarts. Harry gripped the paper tightly as the pictures danced in front of his unseeing eyes. He had gone back further in time than he had thought was possible. If only Hermione had lived long enough to see how well her special time turner had worked. Her theory was no longer mere theory. It was fact.

Harry looked down at the fractured device sitting in his hand. The time turner had done its job more than admirably and Harry carefully put it into a special trunk he always carried with him that could only be accessed by him. This was too powerful to ever be possessed by someone with ill intentions.

He wondered as he stared blankly at the paper, what he was going to do with Tom Riddle once he found him?

Tom was too young to be his friend and too old to be his child.

Harry crumbled the paper up and left it on the table he had been sitting at. The first thing on the agenda was to find Tom Riddle wherever he might be. Harry knew he had grown up at a muggle orphanage and while there were certainly enough orphanages to keep him busy searching for a very long time – that was easily solved with a locating spell.

When he pinpointed the location, Harry apparated there without any difficulties despite the layers of protection spells he had felt tethered to the shop. At first he had been confused at the high level of spellwork, but then he remembered the year. Grindelwald was at the height of his power and the second World War would start soon.

Harry pushed through the magical barriers with a loud crack and he landed into muggle London. He quickly put a Glamour on himself to disguise his wizard robes and stared at the rundown building that said in faded letters: WOOL'S ORPHANAGE. So this was where Tom had lived for nearly ten years. It was a depressing looking building and smelled of rubbish as Harry walked through the front gates.

"Hello Mister!" said a young girl. "Are you looking for Mrs. Cole?"

"Mrs. Cole?"

"She's the matron of the orphanage," explained the girl.

"Yes, then," Harry said, smiling kindly at her, "I'm looking for her."

The girl nodded and ran into the building somewhere and Harry stood waiting outside, idly taking note at the poor décor and general state of the building. Soon enough a thin, tired looking woman emerged from a dark corridor with the girl following behind. The girl pointed at him and the woman nodded and said, "Thank you. Now run along and look after the younger children."

"Yes, ma'am."

The woman looked worn out as she walked to him. "I'm Mrs. Cole," she said, holding out her hand.

Harry took it and shook it.

"Martha said you were looking for me?"

"Yes," Harry said. "I'm looking for a particular boy."

Mrs. Cole tilted her head thoughtfully. "Do you know the boy's name?"

"Tom Riddle."

"The Riddle boy?" Mrs. Cole said. "Why would you be looking for him? He has no family to speak of."

Harry smiled wryly thinking of the Peverell family tree. Distantly, very distantly, they were indeed related. It was rather ironic that he and Voldemort were descended from two of the Peverell brothers. "Actually, we are related."

He hadn't thought of what he would say when he got to the orphanage, it just kind of came to mind when Mrs. Cole had brought up the fact Tom had no family. Would family make a difference to Tom? He couldn't be a father figure. He wasn't even ten years older than the boy. But maybe he could be like a brother, perhaps?

"You're too young to be the father!" Mrs. Cole said.

Harry shook his head. "More like a distant cousin," he said. "On his mother's side."

"I didn't know she had relations…"

"Just me," Harry said, putting some charm into his smile. "Unfortunately, I didn't realize she had gotten married and had a child. I never knew I had a cousin until now. That's why I'm here as his last of kin. I heard this is where her son was growing up. I hope that's true."

"It's true. But…"

"But?"

Mrs. Cole looked uncomfortable. "I don't know how to say this to you, being that you are his family."

"Go on."

"The boy, he's different than the others. I don't think he's mean or anything of that sort, but things happen to the children that bother him. Also… peculiar things in general happen around him. I just thought you should know about that."

Harry nodded understandingly. "It seems I have been remissed in my duties as his only family. I hope to remedy that soon. May I see Tom?"

"Of course!" Mrs. Cole said. "I shall go get him immediately. Please wait here."

She gestured to the office that was situated at the front of the orphanage. It was the only room that had a little bit of brightness as it had a large window overlooking the bare courtyard. Harry stepped inside for her benefit as she scurried off to find the boy. He noted that she had looked relieved after telling him about the oddities surrounding the child. It had probably deterred others that had wanted to adopt him in the past.

Harry tapped his fingers impatiently against the arm of the wooden chair he had taken a seat in as he waited. What if he was too late? What if Tom was already too ruined to repair? What was he even thinking? Tom was not even ten years old. He was still a child.

Harry looked out at the sullen picture in the window. He had never thought about killing Tom. He had never killed anyone. It was his weakness. It was what made him soft. The Kill Curse had never been uttered by his lips. It was bad enough he had used the other dark curses, but even as he had foregone killing he had been unable to forsworn hurting others. Ron had called it necessity. Hermione had called it a pity. Either way, Harry was hoping he would never have to live like that again.

He hoped he would never have to contemplate killing Voldemort again.

"Mister?" Mrs. Cole said, knocking lightly on the opened door. "I forgot to get your name earlier. I've brought the boy."

She hadn't forgotten his name. He had deliberately not told her. Harry turned around and saw the half-grown up child that was Tom Riddle, the future Voldemort if he did not stop him. Tom was looking at him through suspicious eyes. Harry nodded at the boy and he merely scowled in response.

"Thank you," Harry said, winking slyly at Tom before turning his full attention to Mrs. Cole. "_Obliviate,_" he said softly, holding his wand in hand pointed at her. "I would like you to forget that you ever knew a boy called Tom and that he ever lived here with you. Can you do that for me?"

Mrs. Cole nodded.

"Now you need to check on the children," Harry said.

Mrs. Cole walked out of her office and went back down the corridor, leaving Harry alone with Tom. Harry stared down at the thin, but good-looking boy. They looked a little alike with their dark brown hair, but Tom's eyes were brown and his were green. But they looked like they could be related and he was going to make Tom _believe_ he was family.

"I'm Harry… Gaunt," he said, hesitating a little on the surname. "I'm your cousin from your mother's side. I didn't realize until now that Merope had a child. If I had known, I would have come earlier."

Tom stared at him with unflinching eyes. Harry had no idea what to make of this child and his intense gaze. Most children just believed whatever adults told them. Tom wasn't going to be like that, but Harry needed him to believe him. It would make things so much easier.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, holding out his hand, "that I didn't come sooner."

Tom looked down at the offered hand.

"Won't you come with me?"

Tom looked back up and met Harry's eyes with his own. "That thing you did to Mrs. Cole. Will you teach me?"

Of course, that was what would interest this child. Granted if he had seen something like that done by someone, he would want to learn it too, wouldn't he? From the little that Harry knew about Tom's childhood from Dumbledore, Tom had been able to do magic consciously since he was a young child.

"I'll teach you anything you want," Harry said.

Tom considered Harry's hand again. "Are you really my cousin?"

"Yes," Harry affirmed because distantly it was true.

He would have to be careful not to tell lies. He could already see there was so much distrust in Tom. If he wanted to change Tom, to guide him away from falling into evil, he would need Tom to trust him. And lies were such tricky messes.

Tom reluctantly took a hold of his hand. Harry squeezed Tom's smaller hand in his. "How old are you?" Harry asked.

"9." Tom looked up at him. "How old are you?"

"18."

"You were 9 when I was born," Tom stated. "Where were you?"

Although one little white lie wouldn't hurt. "Growing up much like you."

"In an orphanage?"

"In an orphanage," he confirmed.

Life in the cupboard under the stairs at the Dursley's was probably not that much better than this rundown orphanage.

"Really?"

"Really," Harry echoed.

Tom's grip on his hand tightened and Harry smiled safely on the inside because he was sure if he smiled on the outside, Tom would just roll his eyes at him or put on another frown rather than acknowledge that maybe, just maybe he was glad to be leaving this god forsaken place behind.

**TBC**

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Please review!  
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**A/N:** I have been watching a Kdrama called Cinderella's Unni and the main character, Eun Jo is so hurt and distrustful and emotionally scarred and unable to express herself that I find myself understanding a bit more of what Tom might have been like. I am not basing Tom on her, but it draws me into thinking more of what makes Tom, _Tom_. As I watch the drama, I see what makes Eun Jo, _Eun Jo_.

Tom does not have soft heart underneath that needs nurturing for him to be good. He's far more complicated than that and I want to show the multi-faceted surfaces and depths of his personality. I also hope to flesh Harry out, who has lived through the deaths of all those he has ever loved and trusted to bet his future to change his past with the one who destroyed it all. And yet, Harry cannot kill a child or even a grown adult because integrally Harry has that soft, sentimentality that makes him live through his childhood intact with a good heart.

I am rambling. I'll stop now. Please review and tell me what you think of this chapter!

Released on May 4, 2010.


	3. The cottage at the edge of town, 1936

**Note:** Some reviewers have been asking me when exactly this deviates from canon and I honestly don't know because I haven't really thought about it. I can't tell you if there are horcruxes because I haven't even decided upon that yet and any other piece of information yet.

If I've written something in the story that is not canon, that means I'm deciding to disallow that fact from this story. It doesn't mean I'm not aware of it. I've read all the books and I do remember most of it. I'm not following canon in those instances because it suits my story better or because I simply don't want to. That's the beauty of fanfiction! I'm allowed to create and manipulate these little characters and the back story to my deviant mind!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The cottage at the edge of Hogsmeade/1936**

Harry was lucky he always carried emergency galleons in the trunk he kept with him. It wasn't much money, but it was enough money. He had enough galleons to rent a rundown cottage at the outskirts of Hogmeade and enough leftover to get them settled for a month while he went looking for a job. It had been hard finding a job when he didn't have much skills to speak of other than an excellent knowledge of curses. He didn't want to take the job he finally found at Knockturn Alley, but he didn't have much of a choice. He was running out of money and it was the only job he was qualified for – a curse breaker for dark artifacts.

The pay was ridiculously inconsistent. It had nothing to do with the difficulty of removing a curse, but rather how much the shady wizard he worked for could profit from the reselling of the now desirable object. Everything was about money or power in the world. Harry understood this very well, having seen how it didn't matter if you had a good heart as long as you had the most power.

Voldemort had more magical power than any wizard Harry had ever met and even in child form, he could do things that were amazing without the benefit of a wand. Harry's lips slid into an unwilling smile when he remember how every single book on the shelf had fallen on the floor when he had refused to teach Tom a dark curse he had seen Harry reading one night.

Harry had remembered being furious at the boy for using so much raw power without any control until he realized nothing beside the books had been moved in Tom's fury. The boy had excellent control that it was almost eerie, except that the raging emotion in his eyes was so much better than the cold, detached look in them that Harry had seen on far too many occasions, like the other day…

"_You promised me," Tom said softly, his eyes looking so distrustful. "You promised me." _

_Harry remembered all too well those careless words promising he would teach Tom anything he wanted. He wished he could eat those words. He wished he could take them back. But what was done was done. Why did Tom have to be so curious? Why had he been foolish enough to leave the dark magic books he'd gotten from work lying around to tempt the boy? And yet, Harry knew, learning dark magic didn't necessarily make you evil – still, he also knew, it tainted the soul, warped it, forever leaving a stain. He didn't want that for Tom, not at this age, but he was bloody fool for making such an idiotic promise. And he was going to pay for it. _

"_I did promise you," he said. _

_Tom said nothing as he kept on staring at Harry. _

"_I don't break my promises." He knew from this point onward, he would have to be careful with every word spoken. "I'm too tired to teach you tonight, but tomorrow maybe I won't be so tired." _

"_Do you promise?" Tom finally said. _

_Harry nodded. "I promise." _

He was not surprised to find Tom waiting outside, sitting on the steps, staring at the road leading up to the cottage. Tom leapt to his feet the moment he saw Harry and quickly ran in without looking back. He probably thought he could get away with it, watching for Harry to come home without getting caught. After all, Tom already knew Harry had terribly bad vision and in the dim light of dusk, it was even worse, but Tom didn't know Harry didn't rely on his vision to see Tom. He didn't need to. Tom was too young to cloak the magic inside of him and it flooded the nearby area so thoroughly that Harry always felt Tom before he saw the boy.

Of course, Harry would never tell the boy that he had seen him. Harry didn't know for sure why Tom always waited for him to come home, although he could make a good guess. Tom was waiting for him to not show up one day, for him to be abandoned again. Once Tom could see him, he would go back into the cottage, not wanting to caught worrying. Tom never liked to show a hint of weakness.

Harry climbed up the stairs and knocked on the door, waiting for Tom to come open it. Harry was certain Tom had been waiting at the door for him because he opened it far too quickly. Seemingly knowing he had betrayed himself, Tom looked away and started heading toward his room when Harry said, "I bought you a book."

Tom stopped in his tracks and slowly turned around.

Harry carefully kept his face a blank mask. It wouldn't do to smile now and ruin his carefully concocted plan. He had been trying to think of a way to delay Tom from dipping into the Dark Arts, at least for now. He had decided there was only one thing that could possibly work.

Tom stood there, not coming forward but waiting.

Harry pulled the book he'd gotten at Flourish & Blotts. It was a book on magical theory. The book was thick and was richly bound in a handsome brown leather and honestly far too expensive on his wages, but this book looked like something Tom would like to read. Harry had flipped through it on his lunch break and read through some of the pages. It was a very good book on magical theory and it wasn't too difficult or too easy to read. Even as Tom got older, this book would still prove useful. And so Harry had taken out his last emergency galleon and paid for it.

"I thought you'd like it," Harry said, running his fingers over the engraved cover. "If you're not interested, I'll return it to the book shop tomorrow—"

Tom had crossed the room before Harry could finish what he was saying and had grabbed the book from his hands, holding it closely to his chest. It was more than a little bit childish and cute of him. It was relieving to see Tom act like this. It was comforting to know Tom wasn't a miniature adult.

"Do you know what you want for dinner?" Harry asked, walking by Tom on his way to the kitchen. "What about pot roast?"

Harry looked out from the corner of his eye and he saw Tom had already opened the book up and was perusing it. He could see Tom touching the finely wrought drawing on the first page. It was a compilation picture of several magical beasts, both of light and dark. What Harry liked especially about this book was that it explained magic without bias. It was concept; it was theory; it was just magic.

"Well?" Harry said, turning around this time. "I'll just cook some broccoli and carrots if you don't tell me what you want."

Tom reluctantly looked up from the book. "I'd like… pot roast."

Harry tilted his head. "Anything else you'd like?"

"Pudding," Tom said.

"Pudding," Harry repeated and smiled. "I can make you some pudding."

Tom didn't say he was grateful or anything of that sort. Instead he just looked down at the book again, walking slowly to a chair and sitting down without pausing from his reading. Harry shook his head, watching how engrossed Tom was by the book. He was going to have to rip that book out of Tom's hands tonight to get the boy to go to sleep.

Harry leaned against the wall, thinking of how Tom reminded Harry a little bit of Hermione. They both had such a thirst for knowledge. Now if only he could steer Tom in the direction of the pursuit of knowledge for the sake of knowledge and not to use it for destructive, obsessive purposes, but how? Already he could see a little of Voldemort in Tom and it concerned him.

Tom very much wanted what he wanted. He knew how to give in just enough to get it too. Harry didn't pretend Tom liked him. Tom needed him; Tom could use him; Tom was using him. Tom threw him a bone when it suited his purposes. Harry needed to make himself something more than a necessary tool.

He had to be more than someone to manipulate.

Harry needed Tom to love him.

But was love possible?

He didn't know.

He didn't.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** For all those supporting a general story, don't freak out. The love could be very platonic for all I know. I really haven't decided which way I'm going and I'm not going to let it bother me. I'm just going to write it as it's meant be written and if it ends up slash or not slash, so be it. I'm having fun creating this twisted little world and Harry's so earnest and a little cunning, but obviously seeing how Tom's got him all wrapped around his finger.

I love this. I love that Harry knows Tom knows what he's doing and yet he's going along with this while plotting to make sure Tom ends up needing him because he loves him and not because he's a tool to be used and manipulated. I really wasn't sure where this chapter was going until I wrote the final part of the scene today. I may release more often this weekend, who knows? It's not crunch time on this rotation yet!

Released on May 6, 2010.


	4. The presents under the tree, 1936

**Note:** I really appreciate those that have taken the time to review. The chapters are definitely made possible by your constant encouragement and the ideas you spark in my muse as I reflect on what you think about the fic. I will make an effort to respond to your reviews, especially if you have questions.

I also hope to keep updating at a good pace, but please realize medical school gets busy and I may have periods where I won't write anything. I hope you understand. Thanks for listening and enjoy reading the new chapter!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The presents under the tree/1936**

The first Christmas seemed rather anti-climatic for Harry because he found himself anticipating the holiday more than his young charge. He had gone on a decorating spree, putting holly in every corner of the cottage and hauling back a grand tree that was far too big for the little living room. He had even gone overboard on the presents, stuffing five boxes underneath the tree.

Tom hadn't so much as picked up a box and rattled it to try and figure out what was inside. It was so disappointing, Harry thought, sitting in front of the lit up tree with twinkling ornaments that he'd gotten from a specialty shop. He looked up at the clock. It was almost midnight and there was no sign of Tom. He was likely sleeping in his room, not even thinking about Christmas or presents.

Harry wondered why he'd even stayed up. Did he really think Tom was going to show an interest in it? Tom hadn't been excited all week or at any time during the month. He had looked bored when Harry had asked him to help decorate the tree. He had done a good job though. Harry squinted at the tree. It was very well spaced, all the ornaments, and very well arranged.

Now if only Tom would act his age. Just once couldn't he act like a child? Be excited about the holidays and getting presents? Harry sighed, staring out the window at the flurry of snow falling onto the ground. Not only was it almost Christmas day, it was also snowing outside. Everything was going to perfect for a white Christmas… if only Tom would come down the stairs at this moment, but he didn't.

There was no sound of Tom's feet pittering against the wood, only the sound of the clock chiming midnight. It was Christmas day and Harry sat alone in his armchair. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He was more than a little tired. Just because it was the holidays didn't mean he got any sort of break from work. If anything, dark artifacts were more in demand as gifts from one wizard or witch to another.

How long had it been since he started living in the past? It had been months, at the very least. Harry had lost track of time, everything seemed to blend together, even though there were constant reminders of anachronistic dichotomy. Sometimes he would say something that would make his employer look at him like he was a freak or he would hear something that he didn't understand because he hadn't been alive 18 years in this time as he should be. Harry didn't really fit in here, but he had no future in the present either, not when everything he cared about was gone. At least back in time he had a purpose, he could right a wrong and invert what would come. It wasn't so bad, he had Tom. He had Tom. Harry smiled a little wryly, a little ironically at that. He didn't consider Tom a burden of duty anymore. Tom was more like a case of curiosity now. Harry wanted to figure out what made Tom, _Tom_. Of course, he didn't think he'd ever have a full answer. Tom was too complicated for an explanation, even a complex explanation. There would always be a hidden card up his sleeve for him to pull out at any moment and throw the game completely off. Tom was not to be underestimated, but it was easy to get caught off guard. The boy was still a child, not even ten years old, and Harry refused to label him as the enemy yet. He had to care about the boy; he had to learn to love Tom. If he couldn't, how could he expect the same from Tom?

At some point, Harry thought groggily, he must have fallen asleep. He could hear someone calling his name, telling him to wake up. When had he succumbed to sleep? He didn't even remember thinking he was sleepy and that he should go to his bed. Harry could feel the pain of his discomforted muscles from his neck. He wouldn't have slept here if he had realized he was drifting off. He would have gone to his bed, but he had waited hopelessly for Tom to show up.

"Wake up," the voice said, sounding impatient. It was Tom's voice.

Harry opened his eyes and saw Tom standing in front of him with his arms behind his back. He looked slightly irritated, slightly embarrassed, slightly something else that Harry didn't recognize. Tom was a really confusing person to read. Harry wasn't sure exactly what went on in that head of his. Sometimes he wasn't sure he wanted to know, but for better or worse

"Merry Christmas," Harry said, smiling.

Tom didn't smile back, actually Harry had never seen him smile at all. "Here," Tom said, bringing out a neatly wrapped present from behind his back and shoving it into Harry's hands. "This is for you."

"For me?"

Tom looked away and nodded.

"Thank you."

Harry stared down at the package. It wasn't the prettiest wrapped present, but it was obvious Tom had taken care to make it look presentable. It was certainly a better wrapping job than Harry would have done. He had had all Tom's gifts wrapped at the shops he had gotten them from. Harry was a little stunned that Tom had gotten him something. He must have used his pocket money. Harry had been giving him some extra money every week or so because he had always wished he'd gotten some when he was young and didn't want to deprive Tom just because he didn't make much money at his job. It wasn't like they were that poor. They scraped by and Harry knew soon enough he would establish enough of a reputation to command a better job. It wasn't easy in uneasy times like this to be a wizard who had appeared out of nowhere, especially when his skills were not of the norm.

"You can open it," Tom said.

Harry blinked and looked up to find the boy staring at him.

"Don't forget your presents," Harry said, motioning at the tree.

Tom kept on staring at him. "Excuse me?"

"I said don't forget your presents," Harry repeated. "Why don't you get one of them and we can open the presents together?"

"Those… those are mine?"

Tom's voice was almost like a whisper. Harry could hear the disbelief, the slightest hint of it. Harry could remember this moment all too well in the past for himself. He remembered how surprised he was when he'd received Hedwig. Dear Hedwig. Tom was probably experiencing the same conflicting emotions of gratitude, surprise, and sheer joy.

"They're yours," Harry confirmed. "Go get them and bring them here so we can open them together."

Tom stood there for a moment longer before he broke out of his stunned realization and turned quickly to the tree. Harry watched with fascination as Tom carefully picked up a present. He looked back and held it up questioningly.

"All of them are yours," Harry said. "I didn't know what you'd like so I got you some random things hoping you'd like one of them."

Tom bent down and began stacking the presents one on top of the other, arranging them so the biggest was on the bottom and the smallest was on the top. He carried them back precariously and Harry fought to keep a grin off his face. It was cute seeing Tom trying to balance his presents.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" Harry said when Tom set the stack down on the table. "Open one of them."

Tom looked at him, then back at his presents and then back again at him. "Which one?" he said softly. "Which one should I open?"

It was the first time Tom had ever asked Harry what he thought he should do. It was a momumental step, Harry knew. Tom asked questions, but never asked what Harry thought. It was always what Tom thought. It was always like that until now.

Honestly, it didn't matter which one Tom opened first, but Harry wasn't about to let this opportunity slip by. "Open the big one first," Harry said. "Go ahead."

Tom reached for the big, rectangular box and carefully peeled off the silver wrapping paper. He lifted the top off the box and inside rested a child's broomstick. Harry had painstakingly re-spelled the broom and refurbished it until it looked perfect. Tom grabbed the handle and pulled the broom out.

"It's not new," Harry said, "but I've fixed it up and modified it with a few spells and it should be as good as new."

Tom stroked the smooth, polished handle. "Will you teach me?" he asked.

"Of course."

Tom looked up from admiring his broom and said, "Open yours."

Harry felt compelled to be equally careful when he unwrapped the present, making sure he didn't rip any of the paper. The box was nondescript, brown with no markings. Harry took the box and shook it a little.

"What are you doing?" Tom asked sharply.

Harry smiled and held the box up to his ear and shook it again. "Trying to figure out what it is."

"Or you could open it."

"Where's the fun in that?" Harry asked. "I think it's a book. Am I right?"

Tom said nothing.

Harry was pretty convinced he was right. He opened the box and inside there was a stiff piece of white paper nestled on top of the tissue wrapped gift. Harry took the piece of paper out and saw Tom's childish scrawl.

On the paper, Tom wrote:

_Dear Harry,_

_Thank you for everything. I didn't know what to get you, but I thought this might be useful. Merry Christmas. _

_Sincerely,  
Tom_

Harry flipped the paper to the other side just to make sure there was nothing on it before he slipped it into a pocket on his robes. The note might mean even more than the actual present. Harry pushed aside the tissue paper and hidden within it was a stack of thin plain notebooks that could easily fit within his pockets.

"You write a lot," Tom began, looking down at the floor, "on scraps of paper. I thought this way it'd be more organized."

Harry pulled out one of the notebooks and slipped that into his pocket as well. He was rather touched at the fact Tom paid attention to him enough to know how he was always writing down his ideas on paper and then leaving them around and not being able to find them the next day or few days. It was surprisingly thoughtful.

"Tom," Harry said, waiting until the boy looked up. "Thank you."

Tom looked embarrassed, but in a bashful way. Had Tom ever looked so much as child as he did now? Harry didn't think so. If only he had wizarding camera to capture this moment permanently. He made a mental note to look into purchasing one in the future.

"Don't forget your other presents," Harry said. "Better open them up quick before I take them back thinking you don't want them."

"I want them," Tom said quickly without thinking. "I do want them."

Harry couldn't hold back this grin, he didn't even try. His first Christmas away from home, away from everything he knew and cared about, hadn't been so bad. Harry was more than happy to sit here and watch this reserved, mind-boggling child unwrap the first set of presents he'd ever gotten.

Was it worth it?

_Yes._

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** This was just longer than the other chapters, so by default it took longer to write. By the time I was done, I was too tired to get around to releasing it. I finished it yesterday sometime past midnight. I really find this fic a challenge to write in a good way. Luckily, I'm basing the way I'm telling this stylistically on a vampire novella I'm already writing. In a way writing this fic helps me write my novella as I experiment with different ways to convey things in each.

I hope this chapter warmed your hearts a little (even though it's like in the middle of summer). I like how Harry kind of vacillates a lot in this fic, but recognizes that if he wants to get something, he has to give something in return. I think Harry being disappointed was something important that will likely be a reoccurring theme. And hopefully, all his disappointments will have a sweet tinge to it afterwards! ^-^!

Tom's characterization makes me want to squee!

Released on May 9, 2010.


	5. The snow blanket on the ground, 1936

**Note:** This is from Tom's POV. Something different to mix up the story a bit before it gets too predictable. I hope you like what you see from his perspective. It's certainly different from Harry's. It was a bit more difficult to write as I don't write much from Tom's/Voldemort's POV. I think I've done it a handful of times. I'm unsure if I'll write much more from Tom's POV. Let me know what you think after you read it!

I will also try to keep updating on an every other day pattern as time allows. I find updating at this pace allows me to take a breather and it's made me not get as wound up as I was when I was trying to update _The Wager! _and finding it was beginning to become a chore after a while. Hopefully, this fic will keep holding my interest!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The snow blanket on the ground/1936**

He turned ten today. Tom didn't feel any different on his birthday than he did on any other day of the year, but Harry seemed to think that the day was of particular importance. Tom stared at the present that was wrapped in a rich metallic green paper with a silver ribbon to top it off. Harry told him he'd just gotten him one present this time because he thought he had a better idea of what Tom would like after Christmas.

Tom pulled open the drawer of his desk and took out the calendar he had bought with his pocket money at Diagon Alley. He carefully wrote the no. 84 next to the current day, December 31st. He had been living with Harry for nearly three months. Tom could almost forget the horrible days living in the orphanage, but not completely, not when he had lived there for as long as he could remember.

He looked down at the other presents Harry had given him during Christmas, only a week ago. He'd gotten a book of wizarding fairy tales, which he had devoured in a single night. He'd gotten a quill with a neverending supply of ink stored within it. His most prized present, though, was his broom, which he kept on the floor because he didn't have anywhere else to put it on top of his pillow.

He wasn't very good at flying, but he was adequate. Harry told him he was quite good, but Tom knew he wasn't as good as Harry. Tom had watched Harry fly on his beat up, ancient looking broom and knew that his broom was much better, but he still couldn't fly near as well as Harry. Even if he flew for the next decade, he wouldn't be as good.

Tom liked being the best and it surprised him that he didn't resent Harry for being better than him at something. Tom replaced the calendar in the drawer and reached over to grab his birthday gift. He resisted the urge to tear open the present. He suspected Harry thought he would open it before he got home, but Tom would wait until Harry was back from work and open it in front of him.

Tom glanced up at the clock on his wall. _Harry is at work, almost ready to leave for the day_. Tom found himself checking the clock periodically throughout the day. The one thing he didn't like about the clock was that it never told him if Harry was coming home. It just said Harry was leaving work.

Tom stood up from his desk and pulled on his cloak before taking the present with him to the front door, where he would sit at the steps, waiting and watching for Harry to return. It was cold outside. He should have gotten his thicker cloak. Harry wouldn't take long to come home. Tom usually waited a quarter of an hour or slightly more.

He set the present down on his lap and stared at the snow falling on the ground. When had it started snowing? It had been clear in the morning. This was the first snow of winter. Tom wondered if Harry would tell him how wonderful it was that it was snowing. Tom had the feeling that was something Harry would do, get excited about snow.

At times, Tom really didn't think much of Harry. He tried too hard, Tom thought, to make himself likable. Tom knew Harry was being nice to him for a reason, but he didn't know what kind of reason would drive a young man to be nice to someone like him. It wasn't as simple as Harry being related to him. Tom had thought that maybe Harry was lying about being a relative of his mother, but they did look a fair amount alike. Tom still didn't think that was the sole reason Harry was being so good to him. Tom often caught Harry staring at him with an intense look in his eyes. It wasn't like the blank expressions that were usually on his face. Tom wanted to know why Harry had taken him from the orphanage, why Harry had used those memory erasing charms, why Harry was taking care of him.

"Were you waiting for me?" Harry asked, looking down at him.

Tom blinked, stunned that he had been staring off into space for so long that he hadn't even noticed Harry coming up the path. Tom forced himself to look at Harry without betraying his surprise. "I was looking at the snow," Tom said. "It's the first time it's snowed this winter."

"Lovely, isn't it?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Tom on the steps. "It's pretty cold though. Is your cloak warm enough?"

Tom didn't even know why Harry bothered to ask when he shedded his cloak anyway and wrapped it around him. Tom was about to say he didn't need the cloak, but when he felt the warmth of it he didn't want to give it up. Tom held onto the edges and pulled the cloak around him more tightly.

"You haven't opened your present yet?" Harry asked.

It was on the tip of Tom's tongue to say he had been waiting for Harry, but in the end he couldn't say it.

"Were you waiting for me?"

Tom refused to look at him. He stared down at the present on his lap instead.

"Well," Harry said, "go ahead and open it."

Tom wanted to preserve the beautiful wrapping, but he didn't want to seem like the gift was too precious. He'd realized how silly he must have looked to have unwrapped his Christmas gifts with such care. This time Tom ripped the paper haphazardly off the box. He opened the box and inside was a thick, leather-bound book. The title said in gold embellished letters: _Hogwarts, A History_.

"I thought this would be appropriate," Harry said, "because you soon will be attending Hogwarts."

Tom ran his fingers over the cover of the book. "I will be attending Hogwarts?"

"You are a wizard, aren't you?"

"I am a wizard," Tom said. "I am a wizard."

Tom felt Harry ruffle his hair and he wanted to pull away to save face, not wanting to let Harry know how much he liked his warm touch, but he didn't move away because he simply didn't want to. Tom was actually tempted to lean in to the touch, but he was too stubborn to do so. Instead he sat there stiffly, allowing Harry to mess up his hair without betraying his feelings.

"You," Harry said softly, "are a wizard."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I thought we finally needed a dose of Tom's POV to even out Harry's POV. I'm not sure if it'll be an equal split of POVs are if I will concentrate mainly on Harry's with a smattering of Tom's. What would you guys like to see? I find readers make the most of a story. Great reviews make me want to make this story better. I definitely appreciate all the reviews I've received so far and all the people who are favoriting this story and putting it on their alerts.

I have a great reader/reviewer base and I hope you like this chapter as much as I do.

Released on May 11, 2010.


	6. Promises must be kept, 1937

**Note:** I especially appreciated the reviews from _**Tonks-is-cool, Winoniel, **_and _**Anna**_**. **I like that you took the time to tell you what you liked, what you think, and to give a dose of encouragement. This chapter was definitely made possible because of you three !

The popular consensus was to keep Tom's POV limited in the story and I will probably, mostly write from Harry's POV. Strangely enough, having written in Tom's POV once, I found myself slipping up while writing things from Harry's POV. Tom always wanted his own say about the events in this chapter!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Promises must be kept/1937**

"Will you teach me this spell?"

Tom held up a book of spells that he'd cajoled Harry into letting him get the last time they had gone to Diagon Alley. Harry had perused the book in secret when Tom was asleep to make sure that the book didn't any questionable spells and had been relieved that most of the spells were first and second year type spells with a smattering of third year spells. Some of them were not exactly spells he'd like Tom to learn, like _Furnunculus_, but they were spells he'd eventually learn at Hogwarts – so what right did Harry have to censure that?

He would just have to trust that his values would transmute themselves upon Tom. Maybe this tender loving care he was trying to give Tom would work or maybe it was a colossal waste of time, but either way Harry was becoming quite fond of the boy. Tom was a bright, curious while also reserved and it was charming to see how he tried to cover up his earnestness.

"Which spell?" Harry asked as he looked at the page.

There were three spells on the page: _scourgify_, _concealment charm,_ and _levicorpus_. Harry really hoped Tom didn't wish to learn how to dangle someone by their ankles in mid-air. Granted it was a good spell to use on another student when you got into a dispute as it wasn't technically a harmful spell as long as the spell to counteract it was used proficiently, but Harry didn't want to teach Tom any spells that could be used to harm others if he could avoid it – at least for now. In the future, when Tom was older, such spells were necessary, especially in the volatile world they were living in.

"This one," Tom said, pointing to the cleaning spell.

Harry had to admit he was slightly surprised that Tom had chosen the _scourgify_ over the other two spells, even though, honestly he shouldn't be surprised. Tom had asked him to teach him a lot of useful spells, like _accio, alohomora, mobiliarbus, finite incantatem,_ and_ point me. _Of course, Tom had asked him to teach him a few curses and hexes, most notably the bat-bogey hex. Luckily, that spell, being a hard spell for a third year had been too difficult for Tom to master yet.

Harry was certain when Tom got his wand he would be able to manage a third year hex without too many problems. It astonished Harry already how much Tom was able to accomplish already. He certainly didn't think he could perform first or second year spells with the level of ease Tom did before even beginning Hogwarts. Tom, Harry thought, wasn't merely a powerful wizard, he was a prodigious wizard.

Tom could do things with magic that Harry had never seen before.

"Harry," Tom said, "are you going to teach me or stand there and stare into space?"

Harry really hoped that Tom didn't treat others like this when he officially was admitted to Hogwarts. His lack of manners was rather astonishing. He was Tom's elder, Tom's caretaker and Harry didn't think the boy respected him at all. For a brief moment, Harry could almost sympathize with Snape, _almost_.

"Here," Harry said, taking his wand out of its holster and handing it to Tom, "take my wand. Remember how I taught you to hold it?"

"Firmly, but not too tightly," Tom said.

"Good. Good. Now when you say the incantation, _scourgify_, you need to turn your wand around the object in which you want to cleanse, like this," Harry said, moving his finger around his cup of tea that he had just finished drinking. "_Scourgify!" _

"Your turn," Harry began, "but first, _genero obex, partum murus!"_

Harry held up both of his hands and moved them around the room until he felt the invisible barrier settle around them. Harry used this incantation every time before he let Tom perform the spell. The prohibition preventing children from using wand magic was silly in the wizarding world. Harry had never understood it. Why keep them from practicing and getting better as they were young, during the summers?

"Now," Harry said, motioning at him. "Try it."

Tom curled his fingers around Harry's wand and lifted the wand up. He pointed it at the spoon Harry had used to stir in his milk and sugar. Tom twirled the wand around the spoon and said, _"Scourgify!" _

The spoon streaked with traces of the tea was wiped clean. Harry was not surprised at Tom's mastering of the spell at the first time. He already knew Tom was a remarkable wizard, even at his tender age, even before attending Hogwarts.

"Very good," Harry commented. "But then, I wouldn't expect any less of you."

"It's not as clean as yours," Tom stated.

Harry peered down at the spoon. "But spotless, nonetheless."

Tom picked up the spoon to inspect it. "I suppose."

"Never easily pleased are you?" Harry said softly.

He had noticed Tom's dissatisfaction on more than one occasion. Harry was a little concern about how Tom strived to be perfect. What was wrong with not performing the spell just right the first time? It was the first attempt. It was all right to be imperfect. Harry had been trying to convince Tom that he was doing a good job, but he was failing to manipulate Tom into seeing things his way.

"Harry," Tom said, "when will I able to do wandless magic?"

Harry glanced down at his wand in Tom's hand. "When you're older," he said carefully, not wanting to make any promises. "Then—"

"Will you teach me?" Tom asked, looking up at him with his wide, searching eyes.

Tom's eyes were dark brown, almost black, but they weren't red and full of evil intent. He was still a child and innocent in his own way for all his thirst of knowledge. But what was wrong about a want of learning? It had done good with Hermione. Harry just had to be careful about what kind of learning, what kind of knowledge. He had to steer Tom in the right direction, as hard and difficult as it would be.

"Yes," Harry answered, not able to refuse after all. "Yes, I'll teach you."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** We will be speeding up a bit before slowing down the progression of time. I'm not sure how fast it'll be until Tom ages, as I may go gradually in some areas and faster in others. I really won't know the passage of time until I write it. I hope you keep your interest in this story. I certainly enjoyed writing this chapter for you.

I almost didn't make my deadline of releasing it every other day. I am a little behind as I usually start the new chapter after I release the current chapter, but it's late and I need to sleep before I wake up for work tomorrow. If you'd please show your appreciation of my efforts by reviewing, that would make my day (and weekend) and hopefully I will get the next chapter out on time!

Thanks especially for putting the story over 100 reviews already!

Released on May 13, 2010.


	7. A letter from Hogwarts, 1937

**Note:** Thanks to the 20-something readers that reviewed ! I felt a little guilty making you wait this long, but I had a huge test last week (6 hours on Thursday) and I have another shelf exam (basically if you don't pass you're screwed) this Friday. I get a three day weekend though b/c of Memorial Day before I start my next rotation and hopefully I'll be able to churn out a few quick chapters before that rotation starts kicking my ass.

Also, _**really really important**_, I'd really appreciate it if you don't complain about me being slow (it's okay to say, please update, etc, but to say why are you slow really pisses me off b/c I don't have that much free time), and what especially especially pisses me off is when you complain about how short the chapters are. I won't point out any names, but let's just say I was exceedingly exceedingly angry at the comment about how short the chapters are and didn't want to write for a while because of it. I write until the chapter is done and that's it. I don't have a set length. It also takes a bloody long time to write one of these chapters because I put a lot of thought into the characterization, the prose, and the dialogue.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**A letter from Hogwarts/1937**

"It's come! It's come!" Tom exclaimed, running into the cottage waving the scroll in the air. "It's finally come!"

Harry had been busy in the kitchen cooking and when Tom had flown into the room, his concentration had been momentarily broken and several ingredients were dropped to the counter as were the knives used to chop them up. The pan he'd been moving with boiling water crashed to the ground and Harry cursed as the hot liquid splashed upon his bare legs.

Tom stopped abruptly when he saw the chaos his presence had instigated and he quickly got a towel and turned on the sink to get some cold water on it. He stooped down and started patting the area with the cool cloth and Harry sighed with relief at Tom's thoughtful ministrations.

"It's good," Harry said, bending down and stopping Tom. "I was trying to do too many things at once."

"I wish I could do wandless magic," Tom muttered.

Harry reached over and ruffled his hair. "You've done some wandless magic."

"Not with intent."

"That will come with time," Harry said, standing and pulling Tom up with him. "You're not even supposed to be doing any magic at all, but you are. You're going to be ahead of everyone in your class. Now did what I think arrive actually arrive?"

Tom nodded and ran back to get the scroll he'd left on the table when he'd dropped it to come help Harry. "It has the Hogwarts seal on it." Tom showed Harry the seal of Hogwarts imprinted and enclosing what he knew was a letter of invitation to the school.

"Well," Harry said, "what are you waiting for? Open it up."

Tom broke open the seal and Harry stood behind him, reading over his shoulder:

Mr. T. Riddle  
The cottage at the edge of town  
Hogsmeade  
Britain

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL  
of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: ARMANDO DIPPET_

Dear Mr. Riddle,

We are pleased to inform you of your acceptance into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please look at the enclosed list of necessary books and equipment needed before matriculation.

Term begins September 1. We await your owl no later than July 31. Due to the guarded situation across the channel, we will require all students be accompanied by their guardian to the Hogwarts Express. If the circumstances change, we will inform you promptly by owl.

Have a fine and good day!

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore  
_Deputy Headmaster_

Of course, Dumbledore was the current Deputy Headmaster. It only made sense when one considered that he became the last Headmaster of Hogwarts. If Hogwarts hadn't been utterly destroyed, if McGonagall hadn't perished, she would have been the next Headmistress.

"Harry?" Tom said, waving his hand in front of Harry's eyes. "Can I have some parchment to send my reply?"

"May I," Harry corrected absently.

"May I have some parchment to send my reply?" Tom asked.

Harry smiled at Tom's grudgingly reluctant tone before waving his hand and summoning a sheet of parchment that flew from his desk to the kitchen. Harry smoothed out the parchment and handed it to Tom. "Here you go," he said. "Do you need a quill?"

"No, I have one," Tom said, pulling out the quill Harry remembered giving him for Christmas. "How should I phrase my response? Do I address the Headmaster or the Deputy Headmaster? I don't know where to begin…"

"I think you should address the Deputy Headmaster," Harry said, "as I believe he is the one who goes through the owls."

"And how should I begin?" Tom inquired, already beginning to carefully print Dumbledore's name as the addressee.

"I believe if you write something along the lines of, 'I kindly accept your invitation to Hogwarts and I will be pleased to join the rest of the incoming students on September 1,' that should suffice."

Tom propped his chin on the ball of his palm and tapped his index finger against his cheek. "What about if I say, 'I accept your notification of my acceptance into Hogwarts and I will join the incoming students on September 1'?"

Harry wasn't at all surprised Tom had omitted the unnecessary words he had added in his suggestion. It wasn't like Tom to be excessively polite, even if he was proper in his phrasing. There no fault Harry could find in Tom's reply, only maybe that it sounded a little too formal and not cute like a child at all.

"How does that sound?"

"Good," Harry said because there was not anything technically wrong. "We can go to the post office to owl it to Hogwarts later today."

Tom nodded, bending down to write his reply. "You know," he said, straightening up, "you need to get an owl when we go to Diagon Alley for my school supplies."

"An owl?" Harry said as he waved his hands to restart the task of getting supper ready. "What for?"

Tom looked at him with the barest touch of exasperation on his face. "How else will you write to me? I mean," he said, stopping abruptly and looking anywhere but at Harry, "it would be more convenient to have an owl for when the school sends announcements and such."

"That is true," Harry said, studying Tom's face with much interest as he was learning to read the barest fluctuation of expressions more and more accurately with each passing day. "I had not thought of that."

Indeed Harry had not thought of getting an owl since Hedwig had died in the summer before what would have been his 7th year at Hogwarts if the school had not already been in complete ruins.

"I suppose it'd be wise to purchase an owl before you head to Hogwarts," Harry said. "If you promise to owl me occasionally about how you are doing at school, then I'll get an owl. Otherwise, I shall make do with the owls at the post office."

Tom looked partly disgruntled and partly appeased. His expression flitted from one emotion to another as he couldn't make up his mind on what he actually felt. Harry was amused watching Tom wrestle with his emotions as he slyly made it look like he was far too busy making dinner to be spying on him.

"I'll owl," he said.

"You'll owl?" Harry asked, turning to look at him after he had set the vegetable soup to stew on the stove.

"I promise I'll owl you letters about how I'm doing," Tom muttered, "if you really insist."

"I really insist," Harry said, knowing better than to make a fuss about Tom tacking on something that would redeem his sense of independence.

The boy really didn't like showing any sort of dependence. Tom didn't like being the one who needed anyone, even if he did. Harry was certain that Tom didn't want the owl for mere convenience. He wanted to write to Harry and he probably wanted more than anything from Harry to write to him and _often_ – why else a personal owl rather than a postal owl?

Harry hid a grin at Tom's tendencies and held back the urge to mess up his hair once more mainly because the boy got prickly when too much affection was shown as if he didn't want it when Harry knew better. It was all right. Because Harry _knew_ better.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** For some reason, Tom and his behavior really amuses me in this chapter. I think as more reviews come in, the readers are seemingly wanting slash. I will probably let you know at the point when I will go irreversibly one way (slash) or another (general). I'm not really leaning one way or another as Tom is too young and the age gap at this point squicks me out. But you can keep trying to sway me in your comments because my muse does get swayed.

On another happy note, I'm more than halfway done with my original vampire novella, _Alice in Hell_. I really like writing this perplexing dilemma of being alive for more than a century in a 12 year old body. Being stuck in pre-adolescence for all eternity would royally suck, but Alice's a fun character to write, as is her charming male counterparts, Lucius and Christopher!

Thanks for the 100+ story alerts and the 50+ favorites!

Released on May 24, 2010.


	8. Inside workings of curious objects, 1937

**Note:** So many reviews (30+) for the last chapter ^-^! I was so enthused by the response that this came out so much easier to write than I suspected. This is a bit of a departure from the other chapters in the series, but a somewhat necessary chapter in the scheme of things. Also Tom is as difficult as he always is.

He's such a stubborn, beastly child.

I would appreciate if those who support general did not say it's sick or gross if this ends up slash. As I've said before, it's a possibility and I'm more leaning toward general at this point anyway, but I will let the story tell me where it wants me to go and I will let you know as soon as I know, which I never know what I'm doing until halfway through a chapter ^-^;;.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Inside workings of** **curious objects/1937**

The clock was ticking the seconds of the minute as the minutes counted off the hours of the day and Harry glanced at his pocket watch more often than not especially toward the end of the day. He had specially spelled the watch to alert him of Tom's doings and to act like a looking glass. It was invasive and completely inappropriate, but his whole existence in this time period shouldn't even exist – so why quibble about something like this?

Harry sighed and reached into the inside of his robe to draw out his pocket watch. He flipped it open and the second hand was merrily tick-tocking around its axis as the minute hand informed him that _Tom is currently sitting on the front steps._ Harry was about to call up the image of Tom when the door bell rang and he quickly shut his pocket watch and replaced it into his robes.

"Yes?" he said, looking up and seeing someone he certainly did not expect to see in this part of Knockturn Alley. Harry covered up his surprise by keeping every trace of emotion off of his face, but it was not an especially easy thing to accomplish when he was seeing the face of a dead man. "May I help you?"

"Good day," Dumbledore said, smiling warmly at him and Harry could feel the weight of the his twinkling gaze on him. "Are you Mr. Gaunt?"

"Yes," Harry answered hesitantly, wondering how in the world Dumbledore knew who he was pretending to be in this timeline. "And—"

"I've heard a great many things about you," Dumbledore stated, adjusting his spectacles as if trying to look further into Harry. "They say you are a most remarkable curse breaker. They say you can do things with magic that should not be possible."

Fuck. And fuck him. Harry had been careless, using his magic without reserve, not thinking that anyone would notice him in the very back and forgotten ways of Knockturn Alley.

"I'm certain," Harry said steadily, "that rumors have greatly exaggerated my abilities. I'm simply a curse breaker, nothing more or less."

"At the very least," Dumbledore said, "you come highly recommended."

Harry shut his mouth rather than say anything that might pique the older wizard's curiosity. Trying to hard to be humble likely would work against him, knowing Dumbledore's propensity for digging deeper at illogical areas and discovering what should not be uncovered. Harry patiently waited for Dumbledore to tell him why he was here and what he wanted.

"Well," Dumbledore said, pulling a little drawstring velvet bag out of his pocket, "I have need of your talent."

Harry questioned why Dumbledore would need his talent when Dumbledore himself was arguably the greatest wizard of his time, but instead he said, "Exactly how might I be of help?"

Dumbledore open the bag and pulled out a plain looking heart locket. "It cannot be opened," he said. "I have tried, but it will not budge, no matter what I do. I thought, perhaps, a new perspective from another wizard might prove illuminating."

Harry thought it rather impossible that Dumbledore had failed at something as simple as unlocking an object if he had truly tried to open it. Harry automatically wondered if Dumbledore was trying to test him and wondered how Dumbledore had even known about him. Dumbledore shouldn't move in the circles that Harry would have found himself mentioned, working as he did in Knockturn Alley, but then Dumbledore always defied expectation.

"I will see what I can do," Harry said.

"Please do," Dumbledore responded. "And do take your time. I am in no particular rush."

"Of course," Harry said, "I will look at the locket as soon as I can and I will contact you if I am able to unlock it."

"I am certain you will succeed where I have failed," Dumbledore stated, his eyes gleaming. "Good day, Mr. Gaunt."

"Good day," Harry echoed and watched the other wizard leave before stowing the locket away in this work table.

Harry couldn't deny his interest in the heart locket, but there were more pressing concerns at the moment. He was late heading home and he was sure that Tom was eagerly awaiting his arrival. Harry reached into his robes and pulled out his pocket watch, quickly flipping it open. Inside the watch said: _Tom is currently pacing at the front of the cottage_.

Impatiently, Harry thought with a smile, how endearing.

Harry snapped the pocket watch shut and replaced it into his robes. He stood up and faster than he could snap his fingers, he had apparated from Knockturn Alley to just around the final bend in the road from where the cottage was at the edge of Hogsmeade. It was impossible to apparate much closer because of the wards Harry had deliberately placed around the cottage when he realized how unsafe it would be to leave a child alone without any protection. At least this way, nothing could break into the wards unless their magic was stronger than Harry's magic or they had permission to enter.

Harry made his way quickly around the turn in the road and in the distance he could see Tom walking back and forth in front of the cottage, the dust swirling around his feet as he twisted on the back of his heel to turn back in the opposite direction. Tom stopped when he saw Harry and spun away and ran into the cottage, slamming the door shut with an audible thud. Harry shook his head, but he kept on walking and closing the distance that stood between him and Tom.

Tom was difficult, but Harry was determined.

Time, patience, and affection would be rewarded, he had to believe it, or else all was lost.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I am quite hopeful that the releases will be much quicker for the next week or so. Please keep up the reviewing as it does help spark my muse into action. The chapter was actually greatly influence by the mentioning of how Harry's doing in this world (considering the different timeline, although I don't think I really answered it) and the wondering of if Dumbledore would play a part (which he will) and if there would be any other focus on other ancillary characters (which there might) and in general how Harry does outside of Tom (with his job, which he is making himself a bit notorious, _oops and so Gryffindor of you, Harry!). _

Thanks to **olivinewk** and **airily**, who were curious enough about Alice in Hell (a novella-in-progress about a 120+ year old vampire stuck for eternity in the body of a 12 year old) to ask if they could read. I appreciate your support of my various writing projects!

Thanks for the 150+ story alerts.

Released on May 28, 2010.


	9. The night before Howarts, 1937

**Note:** Thanks for the 30+ reviews for the last chapter. This is the second chapter from Tom's POV. I hope you enjoy seeing things from Tom's perspective. I know the chapter is on the shorter side, but I said what I wanted to say and I don't like to drag out introspection chapters.

Double thanks for getting me over 200+ reviews!

_**Important note**_, if one more person complains about how short this is, I'm going to rip my hair out (for this chapter and any others). I told the part of the story I needed to tell and I didn't want to drag it out. The title is "the night before hogwarts" and that is what it is about.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The night before hogwarts/1937**

Everything had been packed neatly into the trunk that had been purchased the day before when Tom had gone with Harry to Diagon Alley to shop for his school supplies. Tom had arranged and rearranged all the belongings he was taking with him to Hogwarts, making sure everything was in the perfect spot. But he had stopped packing hours ago and now he was lying on his bed, staring up at the bland ceiling.

Tom had been dreadfully excited about attending Hogwarts until he had finished packing and realized that going to Hogwarts meant leaving Harry behind. Was it worth it? Tom wasn't certain. Staying at home and staying with Harry meant he would be safe and not alone. Tom hadn't realized how lonely he was until Harry had taken him from the orphanage, only then had he realized how utterly miserable and alone he had been.

Of course, he had always realized he was miserable, but until then he hadn't realized he needed anyone other than himself.

At least, Harry had gotten them a falcon to carry owls back and forth. Tom hoped deep down that Harry would write him letters, not just responses to his own letters. At worst, Tom would make certain to include questions that force Harry to make a reply, in the circumstance that Harry wasn't much of a letter writer.

This was ridiculous, Tom thought. A little less than a year ago, he hadn't need anyone but himself, and now he was scheming on how to get Harry to write frequently to him without saying it outright. That would just be embarrassing.

Tom sighed and tried to make himself fall asleep again by closing his eyes, but a half an hour later he still found himself unable to drift to sleep. He was thinking intently about what life was going to be like now, without Harry being there most of the time. True Harry did go to work and was gone for a good part of the day, but they had all day on the weekends and the evenings and nights during the week.

And yet, he wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to learn great and powerful magic. He wanted to become as strong and as skillful as Harry so that he could earn the other's respect and love.

Because, honestly, who could love someone like him?

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I find Tom's POV rather challenging at times to write, mainly because I don't do it often and well his line of thoughts are quite different from mine (and Harry's, who I'm far more comfortable writing from). I hope you enjoyed the chapter, as short as it is, as a glimpse into Tom's mind, however short, is quite divulging.

Thanks to the 100+ readers that have added this story to their favorites!

Released on May 31, 2010.


	10. So long and goodbye, 1937

**Note:** I got over 40+ reviews for the last chapter! Thanks so much for all your wonderful support, I really do appreciate it. Also the story has 200+ alerts and has hit the 250 review mark, which is really great!

Keep up the support and I'll keep on writing :) !

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Saying so long and farewell/1937**

"Take my hand," Harry said.

Tom looked at his hand. "Must I?"

Harry smiled down at him. "If you wish to side-along apparate with me, then you must hold my hand."

"We are apparating?" Tom said excitedly, unable to hide it from his voice or his face. "Truly?"

"It's the most convenient method, I should say," Harry said, wiggling his hand. "Now either you take my hand or we may take the long way to King's Cross."

Tom quickly grabbed his hand and Harry had to stop his smile from threatening to overtake his face. Tom was still a child at times, even when he was trying so hard not to be. Harry threaded their fingers together and cast an illusion spell over them to hide their unexpected appearance as he apparated them from outside the cottage across a fair distance to just a short walk from platform 9 ¾.

"That wasn't so bad," Tom said after they landed with a steadying thud onto the ground.

"It's better than flooing," Harry said as he pulled Tom with him to the pillar marked 10 and 9.

"There it is!" Tom pointed.

Harry could remember his first time here and wondering how a platform 9 ¾ could exist, but Tom had been immersed in the wizarding world for the last year practically and devouring any and every book that came his way. He knew more about magic than some wizards and witches. Sometimes, though, Harry worried about Tom's thirst of knowledge.

Tom didn't care what he learned as long as he learned. Harry had almost wanted to tell Tom he wanted him to stay at home with him instead of going to Hogwarts, but how could he deprive the boy of the privilege of attending school there? Especially when Hogwarts had been like a home for him? His first real place where he hadn't felt like a freak? How could he deny Tom that comfort?

He would just have to trust Tom, as hard as it would be, to be good.

"I remember reading," Tom said, "that you just walk between the signs and then you're right on the platform for the Hogwarts Express."

"That's true," Harry said.

Tom looked up at him. "Did you go to Hogwarts too?"

"Yes," Harry said without thinking.

"Which house were you in?" Tom asked, tilting his head. "I hope I get into the same house."

Harry couldn't imagine in a thousand years Tom being in Gryffindor, although if Harry had let the sorting hat have its way he would have been put in Slytherin. Tom was too calculating, too thoughtful to make a foolhardy, reckless Gryffindor. Harry, though, could see Tom being put in Ravenclaw for his sheer want of knowledge. But truly, Tom was a Slytherin through and through. Harry would be surprise if Tom was sorted into any house but Slytherin.

"Come along," Harry said, tugging on Tom's hand. "If we don't hurry, you'll be late."

Harry pulled Tom with him headlong into the pillar and like that they were suddenly not amongst muggles any longer, but within the wizarding world again. Harry whispered a quick, "_Finite incantatem,"_ to end the illusion spell he had put on them to make them seem like a part of the indistinguishable, ordinary crowd. The spell worked quite well when you needed to apparate into muggle parts to blend in without integrating on your way to somewhere else.

"Here we are," Harry said. "And there's the Hogwarts Express."

Tom was looking at the gleaming red train, freshly polished for its journey, awaiting for the students milling around with their parents to board to start the beginning of the new school year. As Tom's attention was diverted by the train, Harry curiously looked around the crowd, wondering if he would recognize any past relatives of people he'd known in his prior life. He saw a red head girl who might have been part of the Weasley family and a raven haired boy and girl who both looked like Blacks, and there was certainly no mistaking the aristocratic air of the white blond boy who had to be Malfoys. And the last person he saw, Harry swore, was an extremely young looking Minerva McGonagall.

Harry had never realized until now that his Head of House had been of the same generation as Lord Voldemort.

He wondered then what McGonagall had thought of the young Tom as she had known him when they had been students. Had they ever talked or being from rival houses had they been enemies from the very start?

"Harry," Tom said, tugging on his arm, "where's my trunk?"

Harry patted the pocket inside of his robe. "In here," he said as he withdraw the shrunken trunk. "Give me your hand."

Tom held out his hand and Harry place the trunk on his palm.

"When you tap the trunk on the brass lock," Harry said, pointing to the front lock with his finger without touching it, "tap it thrice quickly with your finger _after_ you put it on the ground and your trunk will enlarge to its original size. I've put a special charm on it to make it easier for you to carry with you to Hogwarts and that way you'll have everything with you when you get to your dormitory room."

"Okay," Tom said, slipping the trunk barely bigger than the palm of his hand into the pocket of his robes. "What are the others going to do about their trunks?" he asked, looking at the other trunks and suitcases that the other children had brought with them.

"Let them worry about their things. And," Harry said, bending down to whisper into Tom's ear, "there are things in your trunk that others shouldn't see, like your advanced magic books. People will ask questions. You should blend in with the other students, all right?"

"All right," Tom said, his eyes a little wider than normal. "But won't they see what the books are when I take them out?"

"I've spelled them to look like normal first year books," Harry murmured, "but under careful scrutiny by a professor, the spells might not hold up."

Harry had starting setting up all the precautions after Dumbledore had paid him that surprising visit at Knockturn Alley. Because he didn't know how Dumbledore had heard of him and if he was interested in only Harry or if it was someone else… like Tom. He would rather not have Tom be scrutinized by Dumbledore or to even catch the older wizard's attention. He would rather Tom fade into the background, which would be hard when Tom wanted to be the best, most powerful at everything.

Hopefully, Tom would follow his advice and not stand out in the crowd.

Either way, Harry wanted to protect Tom from anything that might destroy his peaceful childhood as long as he possibly could. But Harry knew that Tom's reading material, books that were far more advanced than any first year should be learning from would invariably bring up questions and inquiries. And yet, he didn't want to deprive Tom of his books.

It would have been like depriving Harry of his broom.

"Just be careful," Harry said softly, wondering if Tom would understand his concerns. "Others, well others, might not be so understanding."

Tom tilted his head and his eyes narrowed a fraction, looking a little like the Voldemort of old that Harry caught his breath at the sight. _Tom wasn't going to be Voldemort_. He was going to make sure of it, even if it killed him.

_Tom wasn't going to be Voldemort_.

"Harry," Tom said, clasping his hands behind his back, "I should be going."

Harry hadn't even noticed that most of the other students had already boarded the Hogwarts Express and it was mainly just parents that were still on the platform. Harry nodded for Tom to go, but before Tom could walk away Harry pulled him into a hug.

"I'm proud of you," Harry whispered because he was. Tom was a good boy, a bit too concern with things no child should be concerned with, but still good. "No matter what," he said, wondering if these were cursed words, but needing to be unconditional because that was the definition of love, "I'm proud of you."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** Reverting back to Harry was like a breath of much needed fresh air. Harry's trying to manipulate Tom for the best, but he's got nothing on Tom! I hope Harry realizes Tom has him wrapped around his finger. I like the idea of bringing up the issue of Tom's superior knowledge. Will Tom listen to Harry? Or will he flaunt his talent and power?

Because you know Dumbledore is lurking somewhere in the shadows (although you readers assume the worst about him before I've even given him much of a part, but honestly do you expect me to write any character that isn't complex and well-written?). Also, characters born sometime between 1920 to 1930s will have their birth years switched around to make things work for my story, but no one will be placed outside of their generation. Just serving notice, in case, the canon polices are around.

Released on June 3, 2010.

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**POLL:** Would you like Dumbledore to invite Harry to Hogwarts in some capacity? As a professor or some special lecturer? Or would you prefer Harry stay away at Knockturn Alley and the edge of Hogsmeade?


	11. A letter to home, 1937

**Note:** I broke 40 reviews again. Thanks for being so supportive of this fanfic! This chapter was originally entitled, "An exchange of letters," but Tom's letter became so long I decided to just leave it at his and release this a little faster as I have decided to go in a different direction.

As mentioned before, characters have been shifted around from their start year at Hogwarts to fit into what I need for the story. I have also decided to be creative as to some aspects of them, especially if details are missing and not known about them.

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**A letter to home/1937**

_Dear Harry,_

_As you have requested, here is my first letter from Hogwarts to you. I decided to wait until after the first week of classes to write as I felt it was a more accurate representation of my time here if I waited a few days. I did not want to relate a false impression based on my initial opinion. _

_I was sorted in the Slytherin, which was slightly surprising to me as I thought I would be sorted into Ravenclaw. I do admit, I do fit the qualities of the house. Do you not think I am resourceful and ambitious? However, there seems to be a general consensus that Slytherin tends to be dark wizards who believe in blood supremacy. _

_I will attest to the rumors. I have already been asked by a Walburga Black, a Slytherin first year, if I was a mudblood because to her vast knowledge the surname Riddle does not exist within the pureblood circles. I told her I did not know if I was a muggleborn, but I did relate to her that my cousin on my mother's side was a Gaunt. She then told me this, "I see, though you do not look it. At least for all your impurity, half of you is ancient and pure even if poor." _

_I suppose then that you are a pureblood? And that I am a halfblood? _

_If you think I am being hazed by my housemates, do not worry. I have taken your advice of not standing out in the crowd mostly to heart, but a hex or a curse at times works wonders on getting some respect within this house. I was careful to hide my spellwork from our Head of House, Professor Slughorn, who seems to ignore anything he deems unimportant. I do not think he is aware of what I have done, although I have caught him looking at me a time or two. I do wonder at the reason. Though I cannot imagine him letting me hex students without punishment if he was indeed aware. _

_I find most of the professors and most of the classes quite interesting. I must admit my least favorite class is Transfiguration, mainly because it is something that does not come naturally to me like my other classes. I am especially good at Charms and Defense against the Dark Arts. My skill in those areas are mainly due to your tutoring as the professors here do not seem quite as powerful as you do for some reason. There is one, though, I find quite strong. Ironically, he teaches my least favorite class. His name is Professor Dumbledore and for all his magical prowess, he acts like a coot. I do admire his abilities. He does things with his wand that I do not know if even you can do. _

_You know, I did not realize until I came here, how exceptional and unusual your ability to perform magic is. Why did you not tell me that wandless magic is rare and almost impossible to do? _

_I looked foolish when I told an upper housemate that you can perform wandless magic. He did not believe me and I did not push the discussion further. He is quite arrogant and self-important, but for all that he is a sixth year and a prefect, he has been kind to me. I do not know why he stands up for me against those that would malign me for my less than pure bloodlines. I find it strange, especially when he is a scion of an old, wealthy pureblood family. His name is Abraxas Malfoy. _

_If you think I do not have friends my own age, I do have a few in my house and surprisingly in other houses as well. I am surprisingly close with Alphard Black, Walburga's twin brother, for all her disapproval. I have befriended a Gryffindor, despite the fact she is from our rival house, but we share a double desk in Transfigurations due to Professor Dumbledore's wish to promote house unity. Her name is Minerva McGonagall. She is quite good at Transfigurations and not as obnoxious as her fellow housemates. I have also become friends with a Ravenclaw by the name of Septimus Weasley, who is my assigned partner in Potions. He is a tad clumsy, but he knows his stuff as befits his house. _

_This letter is becoming overly long and it's getting late. I will write to you soon, likely in the next week. I think this may become somewhat of a weekly occurrence, for me to write to you. I await your response. _

_Yours truly,_

_Tom Riddle_

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I decided to stylize Tom's letter in a formal fashion, leaving out most contractions, as I feel that's the way Tom would write. He'd be stiff, a little rigid. I like his rather matter-of-fact commentary of his first week of Hogwarts. I'm not sure if I've ever seen this done before in fanfic, so I'm interested in knowing what you guys think. I hope my characterizations still continue to please you. There will be more from Harry's POV in the future, but there will also be Tom's share as the storyline is a bit split now because of their separated locations.

The story is moving along more slowly now than I had anticipated, as I'm still not out of the year 1937. Oh well, I'll just let the story dictate how it will go. I like the phase I am in and it'll be interesting exploring this time era with the characters I have introduced. I will try vehemently not to create any characters that aren't mentioned in canon. I will just shift around characters so I can avoid creating ACCs as I detest them. I will also remain true to what is known of them, but if it's not a fact stated in canon, I will likely deviate from it to fit what I need in the story.

Released on June 6, 2010.


	12. One unexpected event after another, 1937

**Note:** If you don't like the short chapters, don't read the story.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**One unexpected event after another/1937**

The letters from Tom were arranged in the desk drawer in order by date and Harry traced his finger over the edge of them as he thought about their contents. Tom was being harassed within Slytherin because he was not a pureblood. Had it been like that from the very beginning? But then why did Voldemort uphold the idea of blood supremacy so strongly? Although Harry understood well enough the hatred he must have had for his muggle father.

Still he hoped that Tom would take the advice he had written to him to heart. Just because he did not have two magical parents didn't mean he wasn't just as worthy of his magic as those who did. After all, as he had told Tom, he was the same. He wasn't a pureblood. He had deliberately left out that his mom had been a witch, though. That wasn't important in the scheme of things. Even if Lily Evans had been born a witch, she would forever be muggleborn and thus, Harry as her son, would never be a pureblood – neither would any of his children.

But what concerned Harry more than Tom's blood status was the fact that he was using powerful magic far above what a first year should use to earn respect within Slytherin. Harry didn't have any inkling what it would be like to be a Slytherin, although from Tom's letters he was beginning to understand. As much as purity of blood was admired, power was also coveted and that Tom had in abundance. Harry was afraid that Tom would grow to like being in such a position of _power_.

And yet, Harry couldn't bring himself to chide the boy for doing something that was keeping him from being bullied by his housemates. He had merely told Tom to be careful to keep his spellwork hidden from the professors. The only good thing about being within Slytherin was that the students within the house knew when to keep their mouths shut. Even if they didn't like you, they still didn't tell on their own. Although that wouldn't protect you from their wrath.

_If only_… he had kept Tom at home.

_If only…_ Tom hadn't been sorted into Slytherin.

_If only…_ he was sure he had done enough early enough to be sure…

But there was no helping it now, Harry thought, what was done was done. He closed the drawer and took up his quill, wondering what he should say in his response to Tom's last letter. Harry would certainly like Tom to be able to come home on weekends, but first years were prohibited from leaving Hogwarts unless they were on holiday even though he lived so close to the school.

How much influence could he have over Tom when they were separated – when all he could do was write passive advice?

At least, Tom was making good friends. Alphard Black was the uncle that had supported Sirius when he had been cast out of his own family. Harry didn't know much about Septimus Weasley, but he couldn't imagine Ron's grandfather being a bad apple. And what could he say to disparage Minerva McGonagall?

The only concerning person Tom was close to was Abraxas Malfoy.

Harry really didn't know what to make of a sixth year befriending a first year. It was just strange. And it was worrisome.

He sighed and smoothed out his parchment as he posed his quill over it. Harry was about to start writing when a familiar phoenix flew through the window he always kept open for Adelais, the falcon he had bought from Tom had become a companion for him now that he had no one at home to greet him. Harry was surprised to see Fawkes and even more surprised when Fawkes greeted him and affectionately rubbed his head against the back of his hand.

Did Fawkes recognize him?

Harry pondered the question as he opened the scroll Fawkes had brought with him.

_To Mr. Gaunt,_

_If you have the time, please join me for tea._

_Sincerely,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

_P.S. This is a portkey and I suggest you let go within 30 seconds or it will activate._

Already Harry could feel the pull of the portkey tugging him toward Hogwarts and Dumbledore when he finished reading the postscript. Harry shook his head a, smiling barely, wondering why Dumbledore would invite him for tea as he felt himself being transported from Knockturn Alley.

Harry found himself standing directly in front of Dumbledore in a bright yellow and orange decorated room that was horribly garish and completely like him. It was strange to see Dumbledore so young and alive. How old was he now? In his 40s? In his 50s? He had been over a hundred, Harry knew in his time, but he'd never known precisely how old Dumbledore was.

He was much younger here with his hair not yet gray, still a chestnut color, and he hardly had any beard compared to his older self. And he certainly didn't have the deep lines that had dug into his face as the years of war and death had taken their toll on Dumbledore. Harry was glad to see him looking so unburdened and full of life.

"Come sit," Dumbledore said, gesturing at the chair in front of his desk. "A pot of tea and scones will be brought shortly. Is there anything else you might like? Some crumpets perhaps or cucumber sandwiches? I can ask Hooky bring up another tray when he gets back."

Harry sat down in the chair across from Dumbledore's, not really having much of a choice since he was already here. Besides, it would give him the chance to find out more about this Dumbledore versus the Dumbledore he had known. It also wouldn't hurt to find out more about how Dumbledore had heard of him.

"Scones and tea are good," Harry said. "I must say, I haven't yet figured out how to open the locket. It is quite cursed."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that is quite so. Do take your time. I am in no particular rush. It has been locked tight for years, despite my best efforts."

Was this a test or was he making a big deal out of nothing? Although Harry found it hard to believe he would be able to break a curse where Dumbledore had failed. What did he really want from Harry?

"I suspect you're wondering why I invited you for tea," Dumbledore said, his blue eyes twinkling merrily despite the fact the words he'd just spoken could be interpreted in a less than pleasant light. "Am I not right?"

Harry inclined his head. "I'll admit it's on my mind."

"Well, I shall tell you this," Dumbledore said, leaning forward as if to divulge a great secret, "suspense is the spice of life." He smiled and Harry found himself nodding politely. "I daresay soon enough you will uncover the answer to your question, but I will endeavor to keep you on your toes."

Harry had no idea how to interpret what Dumbledore had just said to him. Was he reading too much between the lines or not enough? Harry had always thought Dumbledore was straightforward and kind when he'd been a child; but as the war had started and progressed ,Harry had learned there was much more to Dumbledore than met the eye. He was not someone you wanted to trifle with and certainly not someone you wanted to make an enemy of.

"Mr. Gaunt," Dumbledore said slowly with much emphasis, "I do look forward in becoming well acquainted with you."

"I wish for the same," Harry responded when the house elf that must be Hooky popped into the room with a tray of hot tea and warm scones. "As much as I would like to stay for some afternoon refreshments, I'm afraid I must be heading back."

"How disappointing," Dumbledore stated. "Please take some scones back with you at the very least. I must say we have the best scones I've ever tasted made in the kitchens."

"Thank you," Harry said to both Dumbledore and Hooky, who had already wrapped up a few scones with a piece of cloth that had magically appeared in its hands. "May I use your floo?"

"Please go ahead," Dumbledore said, "and do have a good day."

Harry nodded and took the scones Hooky handed him and tucked them inside of his robes. He then walked up to the floor in Dumbledore's office and grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "The second shop on sixth alleyway of Knockturn Alley!"

He stumbled out of the fireplace within the shop unbalanced by his trip. Harry swept off the floo powder from his robes and sat down on the first chair he could find. He hated traveling by floo more than anything, but it would have looked suspicious to try traveling any other way. Harry smiled grimly when he noticed he wasn't the only one in the shop. It wasn't just the owner who was his boss; there was a customer with familiar white blond hair.

"Gaunt!" his boss, an elderly wizard with far too much knowledge of dark curses to ever cross, said. "Come, come, I have someone I would like to introduce to you. This is the Malfoy heir, Abraxas Malfoy."

"How do you do," Harry said, inclining his head respectfully at the younger man not because of his status but because he was Tom's friend. "I am Harry Gaunt," he said, holding out his hand for good form.

"I hope I may call you Harry," Abraxas said smoothly as he reached over and took his hand. "I believe we are fairly close in age, although it may not be appropriate."

Harry looked at his boss then at Abraxas with much confusion.

"My godson," his boss said, completely surprising him, "would like to hire you as his tutor."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** This chapter had a life of its own and I ended up changing the name of it, which I rarely do as conceiving the title has a lot to do with what I plan to write in it. The last entire scene post-floo was completely unexpected, hence the name the chapter ended up having, as well as the invitation to tea with Dumbledore being unexpected for Harry. I hope you enjoyed the events of the chapter. I know a lot of you were expecting a response to Tom's letter, but I don't like to write what's expected if it won't really add anything to the story. This works a lot better and opens a few unexpected doors.

I wonder on your thoughts and speculations of what possibilities might occur.

As for why it took so long for the chapter to be release, it's because I'm getting busier and I will be even busier for the next two weeks as my shelf is coming up again and I have to do a grand rounds presentation. Also longer chapters for some reason take me so much longer than two shorter chapters that total have a longer word count. I think it's because I have to consider pacing and how the individual parts of a chapter go well with each other. Either way, the longer the chapter the expontentially longer it takes to write it. So this story has about 15,000 words in a month. From my experience writing my long chaptered fic, From the Ashes, it takes me a month to write a 5,000 word chapter. I'm also currently stalled on that one. Hopefully that doesn't happen here!

Released on June 13, 2010.


	13. Auspicious associations, 1937

**Note:** I am over 250+ on story alerts, thanks for the support and please keep reviewing!

This chapter is dedicated to _NougatEvolution_, your speculations spawned this chapter. I hope you like it!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Auspicious associations/1937**

Harry was wondering what the hell he was doing here with Abraxas wandering through the Malfoy Manor with him as if they were acquaintances. He didn't even yet know what Abraxas wanted from him in regards to tutelage. Whatever it was, he doubted it had anything to do with the curriculum at school.

"You know," Abraxas said as looked back thoughtfully at Harry, "Tom has mentioned that you attended Hogwarts."

_Oh fuck_, was Harry's first thought, followed by a string of expletives.

"But I don't recall you being at Hogwarts when I was younger," Abraxas continued nonchalantly, "I'm sure I would remember you if you are talented and powerful as Tom has told me."

Harry crossed his arms over his chest. "And what has Tom told you? I'm sure what looks extraordinary to a first year is not quite as impressive to a sixth year and prefect as yourself."

"So it works both ways," Abraxas remarked. "He talks to me about you and he talks to you about me. I wonder what that means."

Harry was tempted to say something, but he knew that would be unwise. He was trapped in this situation because he had accepted Abraxas' request to be his tutor and really he couldn't refuse if he wanted to keep his job at the shop. Really what luck did he have to be hired by Malfoy heir's godfather and to catch both of their attention? He needed to hide his magic as much as he told Tom to do the same. How utterly foolish of him.

"I'm certain you're wondering what my intentions are." Abraxas walked over to where Harry was standing still. "I would certainly be wondering if I were in your position. Although in my position, I would rather keep you squirming with uncertainty, but lucky for you, I am quite fond of your _cousin_ Tom."

Abraxas paused and stepped into Harry's personal space. They were rather close, too close for his comfort. "I've taken the measure of researching your person, only for the sake of being thorough, of course and I must say you ought to be more careful Harry if you want to continue this charade of yours."

Harry felt like he was being strangled as he continued to listen to Abraxas. He was so fucked it wasn't even funny. There was no way he could get out of it. He was sure that Abraxas knew that he wasn't Harry Gaunt. Luckily, because he was from the future, records of him as Harry Potter didn't exist, much as Lord Voldemort didn't exist _yet_.

He had no choice, Harry thought dejectedly. He couldn't run away from this problem. No matter what he had to be there for Tom until the end, even if it meant groveling to Draco's grandfather.

"What do you want from me?" Harry asked sharply, staring directly into Abraxas' eyes. "I assume you want something."

Abraxas smiled barely. "Your assumption is correct," he said smoothly. "I do want something, but I'm not going to force you or anything like that. I have no intention of exposing your secrets. You likely have a reason you are posing as Tom's cousin, as Harry _Gaunt_, and who am I to interfere? I do, though, want your help in improving my own magic as Tom has told me what a great teacher you are and you are the reason he is so advanced for his age."

Harry wanted to take a step back, but he didn't. "Tom is quite advanced because he is very strong innately. I merely helped him along his way."

"You're guiding him," Abraxas stated. "I want the same guidance. I want to see what I might be capable of with you helping me along my way." He stepped so close to Harry they that they were just not touching. "I will help you as much as you help me, Harry. I will see to the paperwork you need to become truly Harry Gaunt."

Abraxas paused. "I can be quite generous, if it so pleases me to be."

Harry almost flinched when Abraxas raised his hand and brushed aside some hair that had fallen over his forehead. "You know," he remarked offhandedly, "I think this will work very well between us, this partnership. After all you have something you need and I have something I want."

Harry nodded and sighed with relief when Abraxas backed away from him. "I must," Harry began haltingly, hating how hesitant his voice sounded when he was older than Abraxas by at least two years, if not three, "I need to be getting back to work."

"Of course," Abraxas ssaid, "I will let my godfather know that it was I who detained you."

Harry didn't even think as he apparated out of Malfoy Manor, breaking through centuries of carefully maintained wards, until afterwards when he pushed through his own wards at his cottage and realized he was shaking with exhaustion from having expended so much magical energy in such a short bout of time. He collapsed onto his bed, not even noticing the scroll that Adelais had left on his nightstand, as he closed his eyes and fell into a fitful rest thinking how he had acted like such a Gryffindor instead of a Slytherin.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I was going to write more, but decided against it because I'm tired and I've got to go work on a Grand Rounds presentation and I need to study. I hope you enjoy this chapter, despite the fact Tom is missing from here (although his prior words and actions are still having quite an effect on the situation)!

I really must thank my reviewers for all their cleverness with inspiring the content of this chapter. I couldn't do it without you!

And for the spammer(s), I got to over 50 reviews thanks in part to you and I realize while I don't appreciate the ridiculous immaturity of saying repetitiously that a chapter is short, I also know more people tend to read more popular stories, so I suppose I'll just ignore your complaints and appreciate my true reviewers (which I really, really do)!

Released on June 16, 2010.


	14. Another letter home, 1937

**Note:** I appreciate both reviews from _Archer2_ and _NougatEvolution_ (and your subsequent rebuttal). Also special thanks to _Ariana Spirit_ for being so supportive and understanding!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Another letter home/1937**

_Dear Harry, _

_It is almost time for the winter holidays and I wonder how I am to travel from Hogwarts to our cottage in Hogsmeade. It seems like a waste of time for me to take the train when I could simply walk from Hogwarts to home. Is there another way for students to leave Hogwarts for holidays other than the train? _

_I understand that older students, third years and above, are allowed to go to Hogsmeade on the weekend and that they just walk along the path. Is it possible for you to obtain permission to pick me up like this? I think it would be faster and less of a hassle than for you to have to meet me at platform 9 ¾. _

_School has been going well for me. I excel in all my classes with the exception of Transfiguration, but I do tolerably well. I am definitely better than the average student and I suspect it will be my only grade that is less than an O. I predict I will be getting an E. Professor Dumbledore, despite all of his idiosyncrasies, he is a fair teacher and he does not seem to favor any particular house over another even though he is the Gryffindor Head of House. _

_Sometimes I feel that he pays particular attention to me, although I do not know why I feel this way when he gives every student the attention they need. Maybe it is because I do not ask for his help, but he gives it anyway. I should not find that out of the norm since that is what a good teacher should do, but I suppose it is the way he looks at me. I am afraid I am not making much sense. _

_I think after nearly a semester at Hogwarts, I can safely say that Defense against the Dark Arts is my favorite class, although Charms is a close second. There is something about the intricacy of predicting your opponent's next move and then reacting to them that is mentally stimulating and challenging. I thrive on the coursework. I especially like researching the possible attack spells and how to figure out a good defense against them. I found the books that you recommended to be quite useful when the textbook suggested for the class was rather inadequate. _

_I believe I am the easily the best student at Defense against the Dark Arts within my year and that is not mere boasting. I am simply confident in my abilities and I do not believe there is any reason for me not to be proud in what I am capable of. I do make a point of heeding your warning about not drawing undue attention on myself. I have hid a lot of the spellwork I can do, but I do not see a reason for me not to be the best as long as do not overdo it. I do not perform spells that are grossly out of the abilities of a superior first year. _

_I wonder if I am truly this great at magic or if your tutelage is what got me to be so far ahead of the other students. I think it's likely a combination of both. You know, when I think about it, you would make a better Professor than most of the Professors here at Hogwarts. You have a way of relating a spell that makes sense and yet does not make it too simple that it loses the gist of the spell. I have a feeling that the Defense against the Dark Arts Professor will be leaving after this year. He has been at Hogwarts for three years already and he has nearly finished his research on shield spells. He will likely spend the next year or so compiling his research as a wizard-in-residence at Hogwarts and leave his post available. I think your knowledge of Defense is at least as good as his and probably exceeds his. Why not come to Hogwarts and work? At least, think on it. _

_Another matter I must bring up before I forget is that Abraxas has invited me and a few other Slytherins to his manor for an overnight New Year's Eve party. I was wondering if you would allow me to attend. I think of Abraxas as one of my closest friends, even though we are separated in age by five years, but he says that I might be young hypothetically but theoretically I am quite older. I do not relate all that well with other first years, with the exception of Alphard, Minerva, and Septimus. I believe Alphard will also be among those invited as the Malfoy family is quite close to the Black family. _

_I have come to a truce among the Purebloods within Slytherin, like Walburga and her faction, who do not really like the fact that a halfblood like me was allowed admittance into their house. They respect me as a wizard because of my magical abilities, although they would have preferred me to have been sorted into another house. But since I am a part of Slytherin, they will not say a bad word of me to any outsiders, although I have the feeling they do talk behind my back within the confines of the dungeon. _

_It bothers me, I will admit, but I will show them. I will show them I am better than them. Slytherin is not about purity of blood. It is about ambition and power. It is about being the best and being a Pureblood does not necessarily mean you are the best. I will show them that even though I am a halfblood, I am a force to be reckoned with. _

_You really must write longer letters. I want to hear more about what goes on in the shop. I have heard from Abraxas that you are working for his godfather. Quite a coincidence, isn't it? Maybe his godfather can be persuaded to give you a few days off around the New Year and you can accompany me to the Malfoy Manor. Abraxas told me I could take whoever I like as his parents let him do whatever he likes now that he is of age. Will you let me do whatever I like when I am 16? _

_I will see you soon. I must get back to the books. Even geniuses must study. _

_Yours truly,  
Tom Riddle_

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I couldn't help myself with this chapter. We hadn't seen much of Tom so you get a full letter in his exquisitely formal art of writing. I have a lot of fun writing letters from Tom's voice. I'm not sure I would have nearly as much fun writing them in Harry's voice, but who knows until I do? You will eventually see a letter from Harry sometime in the future. When, I cannot say exactly, as I don't plan what I'm writing until I start writing.

I think Tom's definitely being influenced by Slytherin, it's fairly obvious and it's delightful. You didn't really think I was going to let Harry escape from his obvious mistakes so easily? Harry has allowed Tom a lot of leeway and now it's too late to be strict and tight without coming off as overbearing. So what will Harry do now?

I still think this Tom is still an improvement of canon Tom. I can only shudder to think what canon Tom was. I have the distinct impression that canon Tom is antisocial disorder as an adult and as a child likely had conduct disorder, which lead to his antisocial disorder. If you're curious about what I'm talking about, look up psychiatric personality disorders.

Lord Voldemort is also one big megalomaniac, narcissistic, magical prodigy.

Released on June 19, 2010.


	15. Twisting things around, 1937

**Note:** Thanks to those who left their thoughts for the first time. I really do appreciate each and every review. It definitely inspires me to write!

Also sorry for the delayed update. I was busy studying for my Neurology shelf and just well, it sucked. I should be able to write lots this weekend (hint: review a lot and I'll update really fast)!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Twisting things around/1937**

"What exactly do you know?" Harry demanded, looking up at him. "Tell me what exactly do you know?"

Abraxas looked down at him. "Excuse me?"

"What exactly do you know about me?" Harry asked. "You said you researched my person, but you never explicitly said what you found. All you implied was that you couldn't find records of me as Harry Gaunt, but that doesn't mean anything."

Abraxas was breathing harder now, taking in the air as if he really needed it. "It means you aren't who you say you are," he snapped.

"Who says I'm not who I say I am?"

Abraxas narrowed his gray eyes. "Because I have proof and you agreed to tutor me, which confirms everything."

"It just confirms you do not know where I come from," Harry said. "You found nothing about me and so it says absolutely _nothing_."

"Don't think I won't tell Tom," Abraxas sneered. "Think of what he'll be like when he found out you've lied to him. Don't think I don't know Tom well. I can read people like I can perform spells, easily. Tom would be so betrayed if I told him."

"Do you think he'd believe you or me?" Harry asked softly. "Do you really believe that?"

"Tom—"

Harry leaned over toward Abraxas and murmured, "The only one Tom trusts is me."

Abraxas didn't back down and Harry had to respect his gumption. "That's what you think."

Harry chuckled. "I am most definitely related to Tom and I will confess that you will not find me on any Gaunt family tree because they would rather not know of my existence, but unfortunately I do exist. And so does Tom. And we shall make the best of what we have, which is each other. And you," he said, thrusting his finger into Abraxas' chest, "won't disturb anything about this for your own good."

Harry rested his hand on Abraxas' shoulder. "I am helping you not because you're blackmailing me, but because you are Tom's friend." He paused. "Think about it. You know how strong I am. You could feel the ripple in the wards when I broke through them. What makes you think I won't do the same to you?"

To Abraxas' credit, he didn't look scared or alarmed. "Threats," he began, "are rather impolite when in the company of others."

"Consider it a warning then," Harry said. "A friendly warning."

Abraxas inclined his head. "Thank you for your consideration."

Harry smiled for the first time at him, not because he was relieved but because he was in control of the situation. It was so much more pleasant in the position of power, he thought wryly. Was this why Dark Lords existed? Because it was much nicer to have lots of power than to be in a position of weakness? Harry shrugged away that thought and considered instead the implication in plying the Slytherin cunning of himself rather than succumbing to his Gryffindor imprudence.

This was it. This was the solution. This was it.

Now, though, what to do about Dumbledore?

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I think a couple reviewers questioned the chapter previous to the last and it made me think (not that I wasn't thinking before), but at least made me decide on a course of action. Harry is very much a Gryffindor AND a Slytherin. He is not one without the other. He is smart and capable and cunning, and yet he has the fallacy of being heroic and compulsive and foolish. This is what makes Harry,_ Harry_, and I'm not willing to change that about him.

He overreacted to a rather stunning situation with Abraxas, and then in the safety of his home, after getting over the shock, he starts thinking and realizing his tendency to revert to his Gryffindor tendencies as default is harmful and now he is on Slytherin mode. I don't think for Harry, being Slytherin comes naturally as he was a Gryffindor throughout his career at Hogwarts, but that doesn't mean he doesn't have a lot of Slytherin in him. It just takes him a while, and some thought, for it to come out.

And now, Slytherin Harry is out. I hope you like it!

Released on June 25, 2010.


	16. The winter holidays, 1937 to 1938

**Note:** Thanks for all those who reviewed and sent me encouraging PMs, they definitely helped getting this chapter out. I didn't really figure out what this chapter was about until today, when I finished it up. This is, I believe, the longest chapter in the series and the first chapter that contains scene shifts. It was necessary to move the action along as there's a lot of story to get at.

One reader asked how long this story will be in chapter number and I honestly have no idea. Please enjoy the ride and continue to support me! This will be as long as necessary to tell the story sufficiently and I'll leave it at that!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The winter holidays/1937-1938**

How he had missed him, Harry thought as he fondly watched Tom sleeping in a bed he had left unoccupied for far too many months. Harry could see the changes a few short months had wroughted on Tom. He was bigger, taller, and still growing. He was going to be tall, taller than him. Harry reached over and gently tousled the boy's dark brown hair. The strands of hair felt like silk as they ran through his fingers.

Tom turned his face in his direction and made that muffled groaning sound he always made when he was on the verge of waking up. Harry removed his hand from Tom's hair and scooted his chair further away from his bed. He debated if he should leave the room, but what was the harm of Tom waking up and seeing him first thing in the morning?

"Morning," Tom said groggily as he opened his slightly red eyes. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

"Merry Christmas, Tom," Harry echoed.

* * *

It was amazing how everything easily fell into the same pattern again, Harry mused as he floated the breakfast he had just finishing whipping up for Tom to the table. Harry smiled as he sat down opposite of Tom and held his fork up threateningly over the bacon that was Tom's favorite part of breakfast. Tom quickly protected his bacon by covering it with his hand.

"That's mine," Tom declared, staring up at Harry. "Get your own."

Harry tilted his head. "Not willing to share, not even with me?"

Tom lowered his hand from where it hovered over his bacon and for a moment Harry was certain Tom was going to repeat what he had said earlier, but Tom surprised him instead and said, "I suppose you can have a piece, since you cooked it."

How begrudging of him, Harry thought as he snatched a piece of bacon before Tom could take back his words. Harry smiled and leaned across the table to ruffled Tom's hair affectionately.

"You're growing up," he remarked more to himself than to Tom. "In more ways than one."

* * *

Sometimes at night Tom would act like a child and snuggle up close to Harry as he read some book of fairy tales. At this moment, he was telling Tom his favorite story about the Peverell brothers and their magical objects, particularly the Elder Wand. It concerned Harry a little until he realized if he had heard this tale when he was young, he would be enamored by the idea of a wand having so much power and the rumors of invincibility if you were the wielder.

"Wouldn't it be something to have one of those magical objects?" Tom asked, his eyes shining brightly. "The wand would be the best, but the Resurrection Stone or the Invisibility Cloak would be wicked too."

Harry smiled at Tom's use of the colloquial. Time at school had made the boy seem more like his age rather than older beyond his years as he seemed in his letters and the time before he'd gone to Hogwarts. Of course, there were good and bad things about everything, but Harry felt that more good than bad had come from Hogwarts.

Tom was making friends in all Houses, not just Slytherin.

And unity was the key to peace.

"If I had to choose one," Harry murmured, resting his head against Tom's, "I would choose the cloak."

"Why?" Tom inquired, staring directly into Harry's eyes. "I'd rather than the stone before the cloak. You could bring someone back from the dead. Someone you thought you'd lost forever."

"Because," Harry said in response, "some things are best left to fate."

"But what if you lost someone really, really important. Would you just leave them, when you could have them back?"

Harry wondered if what he was saying was a huge contradiction. After all, he was here now, playing with fate firsthand. How could he say that bringing life back from death was anything worse than altering the path of someone's journey through life?

"I don't know," Harry said because he didn't know.

"If I died," Tom said, his eyes darkening almost ominously, "what would you do?"

"I wouldn't let you get close to dying," Harry said reflexively because he meant it. He wouldn't let anyone threaten Tom, not if he could help it, not if he was alive to stop it. "I'll die before I let anything happen to you."

* * *

The days passed quickly and before Harry realized, it was morning of New Year's Eve when Tom was supposed to go over to the Malfoy's to stay overnight for a party. His boss usually didn't give him many days off for anything since he was the best source of income, but unsurprisingly he had been given several days off for this holiday, likely because of Abraxas. Harry didn't know if he should be grateful or annoyed.

"We need to get going," Tom said, "or we'll be late."

"I'm ready when you are."

Tom grabbed onto Harry's hand. "Are we flooing or apparating?"

Harry shook his head and held up the invitation that Abraxas had sent to him. "Your friend," he said, "has sent us a portkey in which to use to get to his home."

"Oh really?" Tom asked, tilting his head thoughtfully. "What does it feel like to use a portkey?"

"It's like the sensation of being sucked along to your destination," Harry said. "It's no worse than flooing, but not quite as pleasant as apparating."

"He sent the portkey because of the wards, didn't he?" Tom inquired. "I'm sure there must be a bevy of wards around the manor."

"Likely," Harry said because he wasn't supposed to know anything about the wards around the Malfoy manor. He was going to have to broach the subject of his tutelage to Abraxas, but he didn't quite know how to do it. From the fact Tom hadn't mentioned that Abraxas was receiving tutoring led Harry to believe that Tom was in the dark. "Shall we?"

Tom took his hand and Harry crumbled the invitation, activating the portkey and off they were being funneled toward the manor and to Abraxas. Harry wondered as he clung to Tom's hand if he would be meeting Abraxas' parents or if they were going to be absent as they had been throughout the weeks he had been tutoring their heir. It was odd, he had thought more than once, that his parents were always away.

"Welcome," Abraxas said, smiling at them, "to my home."

* * *

"So," Abraxas said, coming up behind Harry, "you haven't told Tom anything about us."

Harry turned his head, catching sight of Abraxas from the corner of his eye. "And why should I?"

"Because it would be truthful of you."

Harry didn't know if he hated Abraxas or if the younger man simply annoyed the shit out of him. "It's never come up."

"Oh really?" Abraxas said, his lips so close to Harry's ear that he could feel the air moving as he talked. "Tom doesn't talk about me? I find that rather unusual. He tells me a great deal about you, after all. And I'm his closest friend in spite of our age difference, but then Tom is much more mature than his years would lead you to suspect."

"What do you want?" Harry asked sharply.

"Nothing in particular," Abraxas murmured, "except you."

Harry narrowed his eyes and pushed Abraxas off of him before turning around to face him. "I will teach you," he said, "and you will keep your end of the deal."

Abraxas smiled too perfectly. "Are you accusing me of not keeping my word? Have I not made you _truly_ a Gaunt?"

Harry grimaced thinking of the paperwork that had ended up coming his way, his birth scroll and other details that he hadn't wanted although he had needed them. Abraxas had also somehow altered the memories of Morfin Gaunt to make him believe he was a cousin once removed and Morfin had been disgustingly eager to welcome him into the fold, especially when he learned he shared the family gift.

"_Cousin," Morfin had hissed, "I have just learned of your existence. I am Morfin Gaunt." _

"_I am Harry," he had hissed back. _

"_You truly are a Gaunt," Morfin had responded with a sly smile, "and you are most welcome into the family. If you are ever in the area, please stop by the house of our ancestors. The portraits will be most delighted to meet your acquaintance." _

"_I will," Harry had promised, "if I am ever near." _

Abraxas leaned close to Harry, too close for his own comfort, and drove the memory of Morfin and the meeting out of his mind. "Although I never expected that you'd share the distinctive characteristic of that house. You're a mystery," he said, raising his hand up to Harry's face, but he jerked back before Abraxas could touch him. "I like the necessity of figuring you out."

"I'm boring," Harry replied flatly. "There's no reason for you to be interested in me."

Abraxas smirked. "Now that's the understatement of the century."

"I'm not here to talk about your fascination with me," Harry snapped. "I'm here to—"

He abruptly stopped talking when he heard the door creak behind them and Harry quickly turned around, wondering who it might be. Whoever it was likely was looking for Abraxas. He was about to slink off into the shadows when he was startled to see Tom standing at the doorway.

What was Tom doing here?

"There you are," Tom said, looking straight at him. "I've been looking for you." Tom started walking over to him, his eyes drifting past Harry to Abraxas. Tom stopped when he reached Harry's side and slipped his hand into Harry's. Tom glanced back and forth between the two of them. "What are you two doing together?"

Harry looked over Tom's head desperately at Abraxas, hoping futilely that he would lie to Tom, but why would he? Harry was caught in a web made by his own deception. How Abraxas must be chuckling with glee at his predicament.

"We ran into each other," Abraxas said smoothly, his gray eyes darkening. "Actually, your guardian was lost. I was about to lead him back, but you can guide him instead." He paused and slid his eyes toward Harry. "I trust you know the way?"

Tom nodded with seeming easygoing agreement, but Harry could feel Tom's hand tightening around his own. "I do," Tom affirmed and looked over to Harry with a bright, false smile. "I know the manor is rather large and complicated, but I don't know how you ended up in the opposite wing from our room."

Harry didn't have an answer for that statement, so he wisely kept his mouth shut.

How could he say he had been seeking Abraxas out?

Then he'd have to explain one secret. And it wouldn't end at just one. He would have to tell a few secrets and that would lead to a lot of secrets and finally to the biggest secret of all. He couldn't risk it.

Tom's future depended on his silence.

* * *

"Happy New Year!"

"Happy New Year to you too!"

The party being thrown at the Malfoy Manor was pure extravagance. There were silver and gold illusionary fireworks exploding in the vaulted ceiling as midnight chimed via the grand old clock. There were house elves all round, seeing to everyone's need, making sure there was enough food and drink of all. There were wizards and witches everywhere in their glamorous robes, jumping and dancing in celebration.

But Harry didn't have his eye on anyone but Tom.

He had changed during the war and even more in year or so he had been caring for Tom. Harry Potter had truly grown up, he thought, into the potential Dumbledore must have seen in him to put such a monumental burden on his shoulders. He really ought to resent that old wizard more, but he couldn't find it in his heart to hate Dumbledore – not with Trelawney's prophecy. And yet, maybe, just maybe he could change the future and his fate.

"It seems," a very familiar voice said, "we meet once again, Mr. Gaunt."

Harry turned his attention from Tom standing in the middle of the ballroom amidst his Slytherin friends to the middle-aged wizard. "Professor Dumbledore," he greeted with a smile, "I can't imagine you being invited here."

Dumbledore's eyes were sparkling, so alive despite the impending turmoil Harry knew was about to happen. "Are you accusing me of being a party crasher?"

"Nothing as crass as—"

"The wards are strong here," Dumbledore said, "but not impossible to break through, especially at a time of festivity like this."

Harry was surprised and he was sure it showed a little on his face even though he tried to keep his expression bland at all times. "Why are you here?"

"Because I thought you might be here," Dumbledore remarked softly. "It seems my intuition was accurate."

Harry kept silent, aware they in the midst of a lair of snakes. Whatever the older wizard had to say, he would say it quick and be done, at least that would be the case if he was as wise now as he had been when Harry had known him… in the future.

"I have a proposal for you," Dumbledore murmured. "I think you will be quite interested in it. If you have the time, please meet with me at your convenience some time soon."

It couldn't be, could it?

"What are you proposing?" Harry asked stiffly.

Dumbledore smiled brightly, but it acted like a veil for his face. It didn't reveal anything to Harry and he wasn't half-bad at reading people's faces anymore.

"If you wish to learn of it," Dumbledore said, his eyes positively gleaming, "then you must pay me a visit."

And Harry only realized after Dumbledore barreled through all the wards of Malfoy Manor on his way out that no one had been aware of his existence. Dumbledore had been fucking wearing an illusion spell that had directed anyone other than Harry away from himself. Harry resisted the urge to throw back his head and laugh at the ridiculous situation because he soon felt Tom's presence at his side.

"Why do you keep wandering off?" Tom asked sharply as he grabbed Harry's hand. "You are going to get lost again."

Harry glanced down and met Tom's gaze. He didn't really think Tom believed what Abraxas had said about him getting lost, but Harry didn't think that Tom's words sounded insincere now. So what was the truth then? Did Tom really believe Abraxas or was there something he was missing?

"I'm sorry," Harry said and bent down a little to kiss Tom gently on the forehead before the younger boy could jerk away. "Happy New Year, Tom."

He got a muttered, "Happy New Year," in return from Tom and it was enough.

Harry squeezed Tom's hand lightly as he looked up at the still exploding bursts of fireworks, now silver and green, Slytherin colors. Last year had just been the start, he now realized. There was so much more to accomplish than simply raising Tom with love and affection. He had to integrate himself into society and throw what he'd known of his life away and become Harry Gaunt _not_ Harry Potter if he truly wanted to devote himself to Tom and their future – their fate together.

"This is only the beginning," Harry whispered. "Only the beginning."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** The last few paragraphs pulled the chapter together, which I initially was hesitant about since it seemed to be all over the place, but I can always trust my muse to steer me out of trouble when I am most concern about what's about to happen. I'm sorry that the update took so long but longer chapters take longer to write. The story will likely revert to shorter, more frequent chapters, although I promise nothing. I think longer chapters find me wandering around trying to find the meaning when with shorter chapters I get at the bottom of the chapter much more easily, especially since my focus has been succinct, meaningful chapters in fanfiction and my original vampire novella that I'm currently working on! (and about to finish!).

Please be aware that I'm on my ob/gyn rotation and I'm working approx 12-13 hours every day 5 days a week and this weekend I have a 24 hour call, so that has also slowed me down.

As always, reviews encourage me and when my feet are sore and my body aches at the end of the day, they are what get me to write because it's nice when readers are thoughtful enough to tell the writer what they think!

Released on July 9, 2010.


	17. One quiet night, 1938

**Note:** I've reached 375 alerts. Now if only more of you would review! I realize how it is, you're lazy, but reviews mean a lot to fanfic writers.

I don't think I've ever felt so retardedly tired as I do this week of OB/GYN, I calculated I worked 63 hours over 5 days (about ~12.5 hours a day) and slept maybe 25 hours over 5 days. Ok, enough talk about my sucky week, but I did manage to almost faint during a vaginal delivery! I never want babies either via SVD or CS!

I have a **twitter** in which I will update so you know what's going on in my otherwise hectic life. It may also be a humorous/sarcastic take on a med student/fanfic writer/novelist-in-progress. You can link off my profile OR copy this **www(.)twitter(.)com(/)yihfic**

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**One quiet night/1938**

He was content.

Tom rested his head against Harry's shoulder and slumped against the back of the chair. Harry was reading to him from the book of fairy tales. He was telling the story of the invisibility cloak. Harry's voice was animated and engaged. Tom didn't care much about the invisibility cloak, but he liked hearing Harry tell this story because it was Harry's favorite of the Peverell brothers.

"Should I stop for the night?" Harry asked, pausing in his retelling. "You look sleepy."

Tom was admittedly close to falling asleep, but he wasn't willing to go to bed, not when it was his last night before he had to go back to Hogwarts tomorrow. "Go on," he murmured.

Much to his keen disappointment, Harry shut the book of fairy tales and floated the book to the shelf where Tom kept all his books. Tom felt a twinge of annoyance that Harry was treating him like a child, not listening to him when he told him what he wanted. Why did adults always ignore whatever someone wanted or said if they were younger?

"I know it's not your favorite," Harry remarked, resting his arm behind Tom's neck and setting his hand on Tom's shoulders. "I know you're humoring me."

Tom was mildly taken back that Harry realized his intentions, but he wasn't that surprised. After all, Harry probably knew him better than anyone else. Harry always knew exactly what to say and when to say it. He knew how much to push without pushing too much. Harry rarely aggravated him like others did at Hogwarts.

And yet, Tom thought, as well as Harry knew him – did he know much of his guardian?

He knew they were somehow related, although it was never really laid out exactly how they were connected, just an understood kinship through his mother's side of the family – the Gaunts. Tom had done some research, but the Gaunt family tree was remarkably incomplete as squibs were often struck from the bloodline. It was entirely possible that Harry's parents and grandparents were descended from the unmagical part of the family and that's why they were nowhere to be found at the bits and pieces Tom had managed to put together.

What truly bothered Tom more than even the question of how he and Harry were linked was the undercurrent he had felt between Abraxas and Harry.

There was something going on that they weren't telling him.

Did they somehow know each other?

It was possible – both of them were years older than he was – but then why deny it? Why pretend they had never met before? For what purprose was their secrecy?

"I can't believe the break is over," Harry said, looking down at him fondly, smiling.

Harry smiled a lot at him, Tom thought, more at him than anybody else. He liked having more and being better. He liked it more than was appropriate and yet what was wrong with the feeling?

Wasn't it good to want and to be the best?

"You know," Harry remarked, "I'm going to miss you."

Tom looked up at him and smiled a little. He didn't want to appear over eager. Although he was pretty sure from the way Harry looked slightly amused that he knew that Tom didn't want to leave his side and go back to Hogwarts.

For some reason Tom's throat tightened and felt incredibly dry as he gulped down the urge to say the same in return.

Why couldn't he say it when he was almost certain Harry knew?

Was it so difficult to confess the truth?

Tom stared into Harry's eyes and realized that the answer was _yes_ – because of what it meant – it meant vulnerability, letting someone else know you needed them.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** At times, I am content with the progress of the story, but at other times I feel like this is slowly degenerating into a huge complicated mess and how did a simple story about Harry going back in the past to be a mentor/brotherly figure to Tom turn out this complex? I'm wondering now if I've made Abraxas too important and yet I find him fascinating to write, an interesting evolution of what I've read of Lucius and Draco, and more than merely a merger or mold of either character.

I also am amused at how much hatred Dumbledore gets. I'm quite fond of his less than stellar decisions in canon. It's his mistakes that make him such a great, well-rounded character, much like Snape.

Oh Snape. I miss writing about him. It makes me want to write more of _From the Ashes._

I don't know exactly when the next update will be, but depending on the length it will be sooner or later.

Released on July 16, 2010.


	18. A somewhat expected proposal, 1938

**Note:** I've gotten over 400 alerts. Thanks!

I do blog my progress on my twitter. Link on my profile.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**A somewhat expected proposal/1938**

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, smiling and twinkling with his bright eyes, "welcome!"

Harry inclined his head and sat down in the chair that Dumbledore was gesturing at him to sit in. "You said you had a proposal for me?" Harry inquired politely, although at the same time, he was blunting cutting to the reason why he had come to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore stroked his sparse beard thoughtfully. "I had wondered when you would finally come. Your curiosity was a little more patient than I had anticipated."

"I was busy," Harry said and he had been.

There had been scarcely any time to spend with Tom over the holidays because of the orders that had kept coming to the shop, but he had made a tidy sum for his extensive work hours that would go to providing Tom with certain items he hadn't been able to afford prior.

"I hear you do some spellwork on items," Dumbledore remarked. "You are not just limited to being a curse breaker."

Harry stared at the interesting dents and scratches on Dumbledore's desk instead of meeting the other wizard's all-seeing gaze. "I do what I can to provide for myself and my charge."

"Yes, Tom," Dumbledore said. "He is easily the best student in his year. An exceptionally talented boy."

So much for blending in, Harry thought sarcastically in his head. But then he hadn't really expected Tom would follow that particular piece of advice. Voldemort had always been confident in his magic and had never bothered to hide it. Why should his younger self be any different?

Harry mentally sighed at his pessismistic thought. He needed to trust Tom. He wanted to believe that his presence now had made a difference, but he couldn't help doubting himself _and_ Tom. Tom always held back. Tom wasn't an innocent child. He knew far too much.

"I'm sure you're very proud of him."

Harry smiled a little. "Yes, of course."

Dumbledore tapped his fingers on the table and Harry's eyes were drawn to movement. His fingers were moving in a pattern, one after another at a consistent beat. "I wonder if you've heard the rumor going around Hogwarts."

"What rumor?" Harry asked carefully.

"About the Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts."

Tom's letter, Harry remembered quickly, had said the Professor was likely to resign from his post. "I heard," he said, "that he was leaving at the end of the year."

Dumbledore stopped tapping his fingers and Harry immediately looked up into Dumbledore's blue eyes. "Indeed he is leaving, but not at the end of the year and that leaves me in quite a predicament, you see."

"I can—"

"Have you opened the locket?" Dumbledore asked abruptly. "Have you figured it out?"

Harry had been too busy with other orders to mess with the confounding locket. "Not yet," he said, not understanding the abrupt shift of topic but wary all the same. There was no meaningless bits of conversation with Dumbledore. "I think I should return it. It's been months and I still haven't been able to unlock it."

Dumbledore shook his head. "You must do it."

"Why must it be me?"

Dumbledore only smiled. "Now about the proposal," he said again switching the topic without prelude, "I believe you have an inkling about what I'm about to suggest."

Harry inclined his head, remembering Tom's last letter, but still thinking Dumbledore was being a little on the crazy side of things. He certainly was capable of teaching Defense against the Dark Arts, but he had no recommendations of any sort. His background was completely blank. He didn't even have any sort of paperwork other than the confirmation of being Harry Gaunt from Malfoy.

"It shouldn't a surprise to you," Dumbledore said, "when you seem to have excelled in Defense against the Dark Arts during your years at Hogwarts, perhaps because of your extensive Dark Arts background at Durmstrang."

Harry blinked and looked over at the parchment and he could read backwards the old cursive script that said _HARRY GAUNT_ at the top. "Where did you get that?"

Dumbledore glanced over at him and Harry met his gaze. "Why from the school records and the ministry of course."

Harry bit his tongue to stop himself from asking a slew of questions that would only pique Dumbledore's own curiosity. What exactly had Abraxas done to make him officially the official Harry Gaunt? He'd seen the birth certificate, had gotten Morfin's acknowledgment, but why the other forgery? He only needed to exist. He didn't need an entire life here.

"I am a bit curious as to why you didn't come directly to Hogwarts at the start of your schooling, but I believe you made the right choice transferring here from Durmstrang," Dumbledore remarked. "As a former student of Hogwarts with impeccable OWLs and NEWTs, despite your rather wandering background shifting from job to job, I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts as Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts starting as soon as you can."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I'm really tired. I will try to keep to weekly updates that should speed up once I finish this wretched rotation. I will be working 14 hour days from 5pm to 7am starting tomorrow. Just letting you know my less than ideal work schedule.

I like writing Dumbledore. I like Harry acting young when he's around people that are older than him or perhaps craftier (Abraxas). After all, Harry's 19. He's still a teenager and still has all that angst despite living through who-knows-what in this divergent timeline.

Thanks for reading and keep the reviews coming!

Released on July 25, 2010.


	19. The secret inside the locket, 1938

**Note:** I've gotten over 600 alerts. I will blog my progress on my twitter. Link on my profile.

The reviews made this chapter possible (so keep it up!).

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The secret inside the locket/1938**

Dumbledore always asked him when he saw him if he had figured out the locket. Harry stared at the locket, wondering why he couldn't open it up. He had tried everything, researched any spell, any curse that might help without damaging the locket, but nothing had worked. Harry picked up the locket and held it up to his face, running his eyes over the faded etchings. The latinate words made no sense in any order that he could think of and he had even tried to rearrange the letters within the words without any success.

Of course, that was assuming the words even meant anything.

Harry set the locket down on his work table and was about to flip through another thick, dusty tome he had acquired from Abraxas' library when a ragged and clumsy owl flew through his opened window and crashed into the table, causing the locket to fly off the table and crash into the wall nearby. Harry cursed and was about to retrieve the locket from the ground, but the owl hooted insistently and thrust out the parchment he was holding in his clawed foot.

Harry already knew who it was from before he grabbed it and unrolled it. He wasn't surprised to see Dumbledore's familiar scrawl. It was the hundredth or so owl that had been sent his way since he'd been offered the position at Hogwarts.

_Salutations Harry Gaunt,_

_I trust Bumble has reached you in good stead and he is not too severely bruised from his landing. I would have sent a better flier, but Bumble rarely gets the chance to fly anywhere because of his tendency to land rather unsuccessfully and I made the presumption that you would not mind his lack of skills. _

_As you well know the predicament I am in with the current Professor of Defense against the Dark Arts about to leave on sabbatical in the next week, I won't implore you on my behalf or even Hogwarts to come teach in his stead. I will remind you that there is a certain reason you should return back to your alma mater if only for that reason. If you look around, I am sure you will see exactly what I mean. _

_Albus Dumbledore  
Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts_

The first thing Harry thought to look at was the locket that was lying on the ground still closed. He reached down and picked it up and set it down on his palm, wondering. Was it as obvious as he thought it might be?

And was it going to be this easy?

Why not give it a go because it wouldn't hurt?

Harry tried to open it like he had tried what seems like a million times in the past and this time it easily opened as if it had never been difficult in the past. Damn Dumbledore, Harry thought. Was this all part of his plan? What was his agenda?

Harry flipped the locket open and inside there were two little pictures. They were both of the same two people. It was him and… Tom… together. In one, they were older than now, but younger than the other where they were far older. The first they were holding hands and their postures were slightly awkward as if they were uncomfortable. The second they were looking into each other's eyes completely unaware of their surroundings.

Only after some time had passed did Harry realize the pictures weren't moving. The photos were of muggle origin. What did that mean?

And how had Dumbledore gotten this locket?

Harry snapped the locket shut and tucked it into his pocket, touching it randomly to make sure it was secure before finally taking it out and securing the locket around his neck. There was no safe place to put this other than on his person. He could have put it in his special trunk, but for some strange reason he wanted it close to him.

He reached up and touched the locket that hung low on his chest, near his heart, and Harry stared at the owl Dumbledore had sent and flicked his eyes to Bumble, who was patiently waiting for him to respond.

He was not being left a choice. Had this been all planned from the beginning then?

Looking back, the first meeting, everything had been too easy. Dumbledore had known his name without introduction and had known his abilities that he had been trying to hide. Of course, he had known from the very start.

Harry hadn't made it obvious. Dumbledore just knew, but how?

And why?

The questions he had, Harry knew would only be answered if he returned to Hogwarts.

_Greeting Professor Dumbledore,_

_I trust you will accept my belated response to your offering of a Professorship in Defense against the Dark Arts. I would be most pleased to join the staff at Hogwarts and am available to start immediately. Please send the schedule as soon as you may and I shall see you shortly._

_Harry Gaunt_

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I apologize for how long it took to update the story. The chapter is a little on the crappy side, but I'm sure you guys will be happy that I've finally started writing the story again. The next few chapters should get tighter and better, I just need to get into the swing of things again. And having said that, I finally get to what I've been meaning to get to. So I'm satisfied, if not completely content with the how and the means.

So I'm applying to residency as a 4th year medical student and I'm busy, but not nearly as worn out as I have been for the last three months. It's been rough. I broke up a few months ago with my bf (we dated 3 years) because of a lot of major/minor issues, but mainly because we decided not to couples match (which is too complicated to get into).

Released on October 27, 2010.


	20. For confrontation and confession, 1938

**Note:** It's a short chapter, but an update is better than no update.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**A time for confrontation and confession/1938**

"What is this?" Harry demanded as he held the locket in his hand, dangling it in front of Dumbledore. "How did you get this? What do you know? Have you known since the very beginning?"

Dumbledore peered up at him through his spectacles. "Which question would you like me to answer first?"

Harry bit his tongue at Dumbledore's cheekiness and steadied himself to think about which question he wanted to know the answer to most earnestly. "Do you know who I am?"

Dumbledore flicked his gaze to the locket before returning back to Harry's face. "You are an erstwhile traveler of time."

Harry felt like he'd gotten the air knocked out of himself. "How? How do you know? Do you know everything then?"

"I am not, although it is commonly assumed, an all knowing sage," Dumbledore said. "I know enough to be of help to you. You are not the first time traveler nor will you be the last, although you have probably come further than anyone I have known. But—"

"But what?"

"But," Dumbledore continued, "what was thought impossible for wizards for their sanity to travel so far back is irrelevant to objects."

And that made sense. Harry remembered Hermione saying something about how the tangible quality of human existence had made time traveling a headache of an equation to figure out. Of course, he couldn't quite remember the analogy she had thought of to explain to him because honestly practical magic had always made more sense to him than straight up theory. It's probably why he excelled at shields and curses, since that had been most useful in the volatile world he had lived in.

"Then what do you know?" Harry asked softly.

Dumbledore sighed. "I believe what you are attempting will not be easy to remedy. I believe you were the one who invented the ability to send back objects and you entrusted me as the receiver. I do not know the significance of the locket. I have never seen the contents inside. I only knew that it must be you who opened it. It was a feeling that I had that had been imbued into the locket. That sent me to you, the original owner, and if it opened for you it must be the right time."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. "I still don't understand how you know I'm a time traveler then…"

"Because," Dumbledore said, "you have the same feeling as the locket and I know the locket comes from a time far into the future."

"But how?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "It came with a message of course. How else? I am no omnipotent God, although it doesn't hurt to allow others to believe I am omniscient."

"What did the message say?"

Dumbledore rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Let's see if I remember… _This will sound silly, absurd even, but this locket comes from far in the future and no matter what you will not be able to open it until the right time and the right person. I entrust you will keep it safe until then as you are an old friend and mentor of mine and I know of no one else who I feel will safeguard this as well as you. _That was it. Rather ambiguous and I have been keeping hold of this for the past year. It arrived around the same time you seemed to have appeared out of nowhere in Hogsmeade with your young charge, Tom Riddle. Most curious, is it not?"

Harry looked down at the locket dangling from his hand. "I don't understand the significance."

"Well," Dumbledore remarked, "if you don't then we are out of luck, aren't we, Mr. Gaunt?"

Harry palmed the locket, wondering what the pictures meant. Where they showing a good future or a bad future? Why didn't the message say anything more? What had he been thinking to send such a vague message?

"Was there nothing else?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "Just the locket and the message, which burned after I read it."

Harry ran his hand through his hair was much frustration. He didn't even know how he could send an object back in time that far as he had no idea really how Hermione had managed to send him so far back with her time turner. What was he supposed to do without her? She was the one who was brilliant at magic theory, not him. He was rather hopeless in that regard, although he supposed there was no one left but him. He was the only one who knew about what was coming, if he couldn't change Tom for the better.

"Also," Dumbledore said as Harry turned to leave, "before you go, I am pleased you will be joining the staff at Hogwarts. I believe firmly that the answers you seek will be found here." He paused and smiled warmly. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Harry."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I finally reread everything I've written about the story, since I kind of lost myself for a while and it was hard to get things back into gear. I've been away sporadically for the last three months interviewing for residency, but now I'm nearly done (one more, but it's in my home city!).

I'm not quite sure where I'm going, but I always knew in the back of my head that there was something more than just Harry going on in the story. I still don't quite like the way I'm writing these newer chapters, but hopefully I'll soon get back into the swing of things.

Btw, I wrote this on the plane, so sorry for any typos.

Released on December 8, 2010.


	21. Unraveling the yarn, 1938

**Note:** I have a couple of weeks before residency starts (post-graduate work for medical students) and so I'll be updating as much as I can.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Unraveling the yarn/1938**

"I'd like to talk to you," Tom said.

Abraxas looked up from the book he was reading. "What bothers you?" he asked, motioning for Tom to take a seat next to him. "You know you can tell me anything."

Tom turned his head away from Abraxas before her eyes reflexively narrowed at the choice of words. He could _tell_ Abraxas anything, but what about _ask_? Tom felt Abraxas touch his chin and move his face back to his direction.

"You can ask me anything as well."

Tom stared into Abraxas' gray, which reminded Tom of a storm brewing even though he was almost certain he could trust the Malfoy heir. But it was the touch of uncertainty that niggled at him. Tom did trust Harry, but Harry more than deserved his trust. He would never trust anyone like he trusted Harry.

"Something bothers me," Tom stated flatly.

"What does?" Abraxas asked, gesturing for Tom to sit down at the other chair. "Is there anything I can do about it?"

Tom wondered if he asked, if Abraxas would truly tell him what was going on between him and Harry. He knew there was something going on. There was tension between them. There was something going on, but what? And why hadn't Harry said anything?

"What's going on between you and Harry?" Tom asked without preamble.

Abraxas hesitated and Tom saw it, noted it, so if he said nothing Tom knew it would be a lie.

"He's tutoring me," Abraxas said. "I asked my godfather to recommend me a talented wizard to help me further my own magical abilities and he gave Gaunt's name. We decided to keep our business relationship under wraps as it's not really necessary to advertise it."

"Is that all?"

Abraxas nodded. "That's all."

Tom wasn't really sure if he believed that was really all, but he nodded anyways because what could he say. "I was just wondering," Tom said nonchalantly as if he didn't really bother him and he was just asking for curiosity's sake. "You two seemed tense at your party and I thought you might not like my guardian."

Abraxas smiled. "We get along well enough."

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"He knows," Abraxas said as he sat down in Harry's office without any greeting whatsoever. Harry wondered how he even knew that he had an office when he hadn't even been introduced to the student body yet. The other Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor wasn't leaving until the end of the fortnight, although Dumbledore had already installed him in an empty office to use at his leisure until he was officially instated. "Tom knows about us."

The way Abraxas said it sounded like it was a dirty, adulterous secret. Harry was rather annoyed at the entire situation as Abraxas had gotten him into the situation. He had asked to be taught by him. He had wormed his way into his life. For what purpose? Tutoring? It was ridiculous.

Harry still hadn't figured out his ulterior motives and he wasn't sure he would. Abraxas wasn't Draco, or even Lucius. He was much more formidable for all his tender years. He wasn't knowable.

"You seemed settled," Abraxas remarked as he took a seat across from Harry's. "Although the accommodations could be more impressive and less dusty, but I bet you don't much care about where as long as you're near Tom?

"I am most curious," he continued, resting his arms on Harry's desk and leaning forward, "why did you adopt Tom? Even though you claim to be distantly related, possibly a bastard of the Gaunt family, why adopt Tom? Your life would be easier, much easier without a half-bred child at your side. With your talent, you could go far, very far."

Harry was stunned. How had Abraxas known? Harry had carefully erased traces of Tom's existence at the orphanage—

"I am a Malfoy," he stated. "If I want to know something, I will find it." Abraxas tilted his head. "Did I not make you a true Gaunt?"

"You're excessively arrogant."

"But I am on your side," Abraxas said. "Because to make you an enemy would be foolish."

Harry narrowed his eyes.

"You don't need to worry about Tom. He was simply curious about our relationship. I told him the truth. There was no need to hide it. I don't know why you didn't tell him from the beginning, that you knew me and that you were tutoring me since I am his friend and your employer's godson. There is no shame in such an association, is there now?"

Harry just looked away at the stacks of books he had pulled from the library. He had to go through all of them and figure out lesson plans midway through the calendar school year. It was going to be a Herculean task to do it before the other Professor left. No wonder no one else wanted to take over the job.

"I don't know how you know I'm here," Harry said, "but I haven't told Tom yet that I have accepted the appointment. I would like to tell him myself in person."

"As you wish," Abraxas murmured, inclining his head deferentially. "I won't say a word."

Harry didn't know what to say but his thanks.

Abraxas smirked. "All you must do is ask, _Harry._"

The familiarity of his name on Abraxas' tongue was unnerving for some reason. It wasn't a slimy feeling, but it was hardly comforting. Harry didn't see a way of getting Abraxas out of the picture, especially when he was close friends with Tom. So if he couldn't get rid of Abraxas, he would simply have to work with him and make use of him.

Harry smiled, feeling quite like a fellow Slytherin that he almost could have been, and said, "Then I shall ask."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** All the reviewing certainly helped me get to writing this. I'm pleasantly surprised that it didn't take me too long to get back into the feel of the story. I am also brainstorming a vampire clan/war type story that will be coming out soon if the muse cooperates. Look for that (which should alert you if you have me on author alerts).

Thanks for reading and please keep supporting me!

Released on May 3, 2011.


	22. Unnecessary fears, 1938

**Note:** I was upset by the number of reviews telling me the last chapter was short that it made it difficult to write this chapter. I'm depressed right now in general, but I was hoping writing would make me feel better and it didn't. Anyhow, with much laborious effort, here's the next chapter. I know it's short, but it's necessary and I would appreciate it if you could just be encouraging and not say it's a short chapter.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Unnecessary fears/1938**

It was time to tell Tom before he found out tomorrow.

Harry was pacing up and down his newly decorated office, which basically meant it was bare since he hadn't taken any time to personalized it as of yet. He had sent Tom an owl via Adelais, informing Tom that he was expected to start as the Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts immediately. He dreaded Tom's response as he hadn't given him any warning prior and didn't know how he would take the secrecy.

Harry was startled when he heard the knocks on the door. He knew exactly who it was. It was possible that it wasn't Tom, but highly unlikely as he'd told Tom exactly where he could find his office near Gryffindor Tower.

"Come in," Harry said. "It's open."

Tom walked in and Harry stood up uncertainly from where he was sitting at his desk and he was more a bit comforted when he saw Tom smile at him. It wasn't the shy smile Tom used to give him when he was younger, when he had just adopted Tom from the orphanage. This was a genuinely happy smile, which was more often in the coming now, but still not often enough in Harry's opinion.

"You did it," Tom said. "I knew you were perfect for the job. You're going to be much better than our last Professor."

"I'm not quite—"

"You are." Tom's eyes were intense and serious. "I'm sure of it."

Harry wisely decided not to argue, but he really doubted Tom's belief in him. How was he supposed to compete with the former Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts? The wizard was renown for his work in the field and had only stepped down from his job because his research was occupying far too much of his time. How could he even hope to compare?

He would just have to try him best, not just for himself, but not to let Tom down. At least, it wouldn't be the first time he would teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. Thank goodness for his prior experience or else he'd probably be lost. As it was, he needed to do some research, which is why he had pulled so many textbooks on the subject matter from the Library. He had no idea what he was going to teach, but at least it was a new term and the previous Professor had left detail notes of what he had already taught each of the years. It could be a lot worse.

"You start tomorrow?" Tom asked as he nonchalantly propped himself onto the desk. He ran his finger along the spines of the texts Harry had stacked on his desk. "Researching for lesson plans?"

Harry nodded. "I'm not sure what I'll teach yet. I'm going to be up all night, I think."

"I can help you," Tom said. "At least for the first years and I'm sure Abraxas wouldn't mind helping you for the sixth years either. I am sure I can ask some Slytherins in other years to help out. And—"

Harry raised his hand. "Hold on. Hold on. One thing at a time."

Tom looked a little sheepish and it was rather adorable in the traditional sense of the word; something Tom rarely was, even though Harry thought he was adorable in a sense. Tom was Tom and there was no changing that intrinsic quality in him, but what Harry hoped was that by allowing Tom to know love and friendship and companionship, he could thwart the coming of Voldemort for good.

And what better way than to stay close to Tom?

Although the real reason was because it was lonely at home without Tom. At least if he was at Hogwarts, he could see Tom every day. Maybe he wouldn't have the chance to interact with him every day, but during meal times in the Great Hall he would be able to see him. That was enough, to reassure himself that Tom was all right and he was happy.

"How would you like me to help you?" Tom asked.

Harry chuckled at Tom's word choice. He wasn't asking to help; he was already assuming that question was going to be answered in the affirmative. "Well you could start by telling me what you thought was best and what could have been better about how the former Professor taught your class."

"Well…" Tom began as Harry leaned back in his chair to listen intently to what Tom had to say…

**TBC**

**Please review!**

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**A/N:** Sometimes I look back at past reviews and try to draw inspiration, by the amount of people who take the time to review to let me know they are reading. It really means a lot, especially when I feel down right now. I'm not sure why I feel depressed, when I'm about to graduate from medical school, but I feel not everything is going well. Writing used to be cathartic for me, but it almost seems burdensome now. I worry a lot about whether the recent chapters have been subpar, but I am trying my best. I'm not sure, but I think there needs to be a time leap soon. I don't think I can write out all 7 years of Hogwarts without wanting to rip my hair up, even though there are a lot of interesting things to tell.

Any suggestions?

I likely won't do the time jump until after the first year is told. Thanks for reading and being supportive.

Released on May 18, 2011.


	23. Defense against the Dark Arts, 1939

**Note:** Thank you for all the encouraging reviews. This quick chapter release is because my muse felt inspired.

I know there are reviewers/readers who are concerned about the direction of Tom/Harry's relationship. I am not going to push it, but they will be close. How close remains to be seen.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Defense Against the Dark Arts/1939**

And so the years went by… and by the time Harry realized it, he had been teaching for longer than he had ever guessed at Hogwarts. Harry smiled as he greeted his fresh class of third years, a mixture of Slytherins and Gryffindors. It was the first day of the new term and as usual he was standing nervously in the front of the class, wondering when it would ever feel normal to be teaching rather than being taught. He still felt like he should be a student, even though he was all of 21 years old.

"Welcome," Harry said, smiling at his class, especially at Tom, who was as usual sitting at the very front of the room, "to Defense against the Dark Arts. As you know, as newly matriculated third years, this is another step up to another level of magic. And this is the first year where you will have the opportunity to learn some advanced level of defensive magic. I hope you will work and accomplish much this year as you have for me in the prior years that I've had the pleasure of being your Professor."

The class clapped their hands at his welcoming speech quite enthusiastically for him. Harry was more than merely pleased that he was one of the more popular Professors at Hogwarts. Tom often told him with a smug smile that he was the _most_ popular Professor, but Harry was certain that Professor Dumbledore was quite as popular if not more popular than he was. It was a well known fact that Headmaster Dippet planned on making the Deputy Headmaster his next-in-line for the position of Headmaster, which was quite deserved in Harry's opinion, though he knew that the Slytherins at Hogwarts favored their Head of House, Professor Slughorn.

Slughorn wasn't a bad choice; he certainly had connections, but he had an elitist and pureblood bias that made him not the best choice. Dumbledore certainly had his flaws, but Harry wouldn't change the future for anything, as much as he tried to put his past… or was it his future behind him? Whatever incredible magic that had brought him to the past to circumvent the future he knew that was going to happen if he did nothing, there were certain things he would never change… Albus Dumbledore was meant to be Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"And as you know, one of the most difficult spells for any wizard or witch is the Patronus Charm, and we shall being our year on this charm. It is important to master this in case you are ever confronted in a situation where there are Dementors or other Dark Creatures. I don't expect all of you to master this, but we shall begin in your third year and hopefully in the upcoming years you will succeed in conjuring a Patronus. Now—"

Minerva McGonagall, always one of his most eager students, raised her hand, but also opened her mouth before she was even called, "Can you show us? Your patronus, Professor Gaunt?" She smiled sheepishly. "If you don't mind, that is."

Harry smiled back at her. "I was planning on it before your enthusiastic interruption. I will pardon your intrusion, this time but remember to wait until you are called on, all right?"

She nodded and Harry's eyes flickered to Tom, who was almost leaning forward in his chair. Harry realized that Tom had never once seen his Patronus and actually, Harry himself hadn't seen his Patronus in more than five years. Had it really been that long? Harry chuckled to himself. Yes, Tom was no longer a small, malnourished child of 9. He was 13 going on 14 and quite tall for his age. Sooner rather than later, Harry thought ruefully, Tom was going to beat him in height.

Harry withdrew his wand from deep within his robes and held it pointed at the large free space in the middle of the room, which was ideal for practicing duels, another bit of magic he always wanted to introduce to his third years. They knew enough hexing spells having been at Hogwarts for two years already and having had two years of Defense to learn some basic shielding spells to make dueling in their third year Defense class useful.

"To conjure your Patronus," Harry said, "you must think of what makes you happiest, a memory, a person, a thought, whatever it may be and that earnest feeling will bring forth your protector to frighten them off their negative energy with your positive energy. Does that make any sense?"

The entire class nodded their head, but Harry knew that they wouldn't realize the importune of his words until they actually tried to conjure their own Patronus.

Harry reflected back on the first happy memory that had created a successful Patronus – the hope of being able to live with his godfather, Sirius Black. That had never come to be, but even though that hope was crushed, he had had other happy memories to substitute his disappointment. His memories of Ron and Hermione, of his time with the Weasleys, and now his moments with Tom.

He remembered when he had told Tom he was going to be Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts and how fearful he had been that Tom would be angry at him for not informing him sooner, but instead Tom had given him a huge smile. "_Expecto Patronum!" _Harry exclaimed and a regal, silvery stag appeared at the center of the room.

Harry held at his hand and the stag, the image of his father, _Prongs_, ran around the class before heading in Harry's direction. When he came close to Harry, he stopped and reached forever to rub his cheek affectionately against Harry's hand before disappearing. Despite the fact, his Patronus had no corporeal form, he felt something when the stag touched him. Harry always wondered if it had something to do with his father's spirit.

Harry took a deep breath and turned his attention back to his class. The third year Slytherins and Gryffindors were just staring at him. Harry awkwardly scratched the back of his head. "So… you say the incantation of _Expecto Patronum_ as you are thinking of your happy thought, feeling, memory, and with practice and a little luck, you should be able to conjure your Patronus. Don't expect to succeed at the first time. It took me several tries to master the spell and I don't expect all of you to be able to perform this perfectly by the end of this term or even the end of the year, but I do expect you all to try, especially in times like these."

The war on the Continent, mainly involving muggles and their want of power and land had now spilled over to their Isles and Harry knew it was going to involve the wizards and witches of Britain soon enough. Grindelwald was already gathering a force in Germany, ready to threaten the combined Allied Forces of the French and Russian wizards and witches. Already, Harry knew, there was talk at Hogwarts of whether the school would be shutdown and the children sent home for their own protection. Just in case… just in case, Britain went to war.

**TBC**

**Please review!**

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**A/N:** I decided after much thought, to proceed and do the time jump. It was unexpectedly easy to write this chapter. Hopefully, the chapters that follow will be as pleasantly easy to write. I think the jump in time and the fact there are events to allude to have helped.

Any suggestions for what might come?

Thanks to the reviewer who mentioned Slughorn. I had forgotten about him.

Released on May 22, 2011.


	24. In the good company of friends, 1939

**Note:** I will try to update this every few days like in the past! Thanks for the 1000+ reviews and the 900+ story alerts! Special thanks to hoperocks98, .Enadi, WeasleyGrangerPotter, dustyoldbooks, and all my reviewers for leaving me feedback even when I've been MIA.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**In the good company of friends/1939**

"Harry, my friend," Albus said as he motioned for Harry to come into his living quarters, "you have been quite busy with the start of the new year. I have barely seen you at all of late."

Somehow in the intervening years since Harry had come to Hogwarts as the emergency substitute professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, Dumbledore had become _Albus_ to him. They were very good friends and it certainly helped that his future self in this timeline had trusted Albus enough to send back an object in time for his safekeeping, but most of all, despite all the mistakes Albus had made in his timeline and this… Albus really did have a good heart.

"Ah, you should know how busy the beginning is," Harry remarked as he sat in his customary armchair across from Albus in front of the fireplace. He lifted his arm so that Fawkes, who had flown in his direction as soon as he stepped into Albus' quarters. "How have you been doing?"

Fawkes crooned a pleasant sound that seemed to say _I have been doing quite well as always. _Harry smiled down at the phoenix and rubbed his head and neck affectionately before Fawkes flew back to his perch. "Did you hear about my first teaching class with the newly minted third years?"

Albus nodded as he pointed to the table between the two chairs and muttered a spell underneath his breath. Instantly a bottle of firewhiskey with two glasses popped up with some tasty morsels of snack foods to accompany the liquor. Harry grinned and reached over to uncork the bottle and pour them both a generous helping of the firewhiskey. "Cheers!"

"Cheers!" Albus echoed as he sat down. "I heard your Patronus was quite impressive from the chitterings of gossip that of course goes around all Houses. A silver stag in such corporeal form as to seem alive."

Harry chuckled and downed his shot of firewhiskey in one gulp. "Yes, the best gossip always does seem to find its way to Gryffindor House."

"Indeed," Albus agreed. "Did any of your students manage the spell?"

"Of course Tom did very well as he usually does," Harry remarked. "But Minerva, I think, did the best, but don't tell Tom I said so."

Albus nodded serenely. "Tom does like to be the best at everything, does he not?"

Harry tilted his head at his good friend, always cognizant that even though there was much he could share with Albus, his concerns about Tom were not something he could divulge, much as he had never breathed a word of why he had become an erstwhile traveler. "I don't see anything wrong with being the best of everything."

"I am certain," Albus said in that conciliatory tone of his whenever Tom popped up into their discussions, "everyone wants to be the best they can be." Wisely, Harry thought, Albus decided to change the topic away from Tom and to the war that was threatening to explode across the entirety of Continental Europe, although mercifully did not seem to threaten the Isles of Britain.

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"Where have you been?" Tom asked as soon as Harry entered his own living quarters slightly past midnight. "I've been waiting for hours."

Harry rubbed his weary eyes and blinked. His vision was slightly blurred at the edges, likely from partaking in a bit too much of Albus' fine edition of firewhiskey, but he had needed some liquor tonight. The start of a new term was always a bit frazzling on his nerves, despite all that he had seen in what he considered his prior life. There was the introductions to all the students and deciding on the curriculum.

He had spent a great deal of time deciding if he would start teaching the Patronus Charm to the third years or not. When he had first started teaching, he had omitted that particular charm from his lesson plans as it was not really a criteria to doing well in the NEWTs in Defense against the Dark Arts and especially not a consideration at all in the OWLs, but with the erruption of war on the Continent, Harry had decided this year he would start teaching the spell to all the years that could potentially learn the spell. He had decided that the first group of studies he had taught since midway through their first years were the youngest group he would teach. The third years in every sense were nearly superior to the fourth years in their spellwork. He wondered often if it was as a result of getting taught by him during the beginning or if it was the result of having a bevy of talented students.

Not a single fourth year had managed even a wisp of a Patronus, whereas quite a few of the third years had managed a semblance of a Patronus with Minverva's and Tom's efforts well above the rest. Of course, the fifth years had done as well as to be expected as they were quite aware that this was an exceedingly important year for them. And the upper years had followed inline with his expectations. But what to do about the poor results of the fourth years?

"You're plastered!" Tom exclaimed and Harry was aware that Tom was at his side guiding him to his bed. "Were you with Dumbledore again?"

Harry could hear the bite in his tone. For some reason, even though Tom respected Albus and his magical abilities, he did not like the wizard. "Professor Dumbledore," Harry corrected, "and I am not plastered, although I did have probably a bit more of the firewhiskey than I should have."

"If you're not plastered, you'd be able to walk on your own without a problem," Tom retorted.

Harry sighed and shrugged off Tom's arm and trudged his way to his bed, which he gratefully sank into and he was aware that Tom was standing at the threshold of his bedroom. "I might be a bit intoxicated," Harry finally admitted.

Harry was vaguely aware that as he laid on top of his bed that Tom was removing his boots and his socks. Before he knew it, his robes were off and he felt Tom's hands beginning to unbutton his dress shirt. He tried to push Tom's hands away, but he was really tired. He really shouldn't have drank that much, but the firewhiskey had been especially good. And he really probably should have taken Albus' suggestion to spend the night in his guest room and avoided this entire situation with Tom.

He knew Tom didn't like Albus and this wasn't going to make it any better. For some reason, he wanted Tom to get along with Albus because if he did that would already wrought a change from the past that he was so determined to change. Because he knew deep down that Tom wasn't a bad egg, not at least from the get go. Tom wasn't as inherently good as Albus, but Harry liked to believe that his influence was doing some good. Tom wanted to the best and most powerful at everything, but that didn't mean he wanted to be bad.

"Harry?" Tom said and Harry felt something tickling his ear. How close was Tom to him?

He suddenly felt very awake when he felt Tom reach for his trousers to undo them. Harry grabbed Tom's hand before he could go any further and said, "I've got it from here." Harry waved his hands at his wardrobe and a pair of his sleeping pants flew toward him. "You ought to get some rest, my dear boy," Harry said with a smile as he reached up to ruffle Tom's hair. "I'm sorry I didn't come back earlier tonight as I would have if I'd known you were waiting. I thought you would want to spend some time with your friends as you spent the entirety of summer with mostly just me for company."

Tom shrugged. "Tomorrow night, then?"

Harry nodded and with light pressure against Tom's back drew the tall boy into a tight hug. "You were brilliant today."

As he hugged Tom, he was aware that his bare chest was against Tom's thin shirt and despite the fact he was trying to act like a father figure to the younger boy, he wasn't sure if Tom actually consider him in that role when he wasn't all that much older than the boy. Maybe he shouldn't be thinking of Tom as his son, which even in his mind was an odd thought, but as a younger brother. Yes, that thought was better. Much better.

"I'm very proud of you," he said again and he hoped as he always hoped that he could always be proud of Tom.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** Well, I'm pretty sure no one thought I would write in this fanfic anymore, but thanks to the 100+ reviews in the last chapter and the reviews in the intervening years that I was not updating for encouraging that people really do love this story and wanted me to keep going. I was insanely busy during the transition from medical school to residency and I hope that you understand that! I also struggled and am still struggling with mild dysthymia-like symptoms, but I hope to continue to have your support through this journey.

I am tinkering with the idea of Albus/Harry in a vague way, probably mainly from Albus' side, and then there is Abraxas as well, and then of course, for now I will keep Tom and Harry general. I have been very intrigue by the idea of a bromance (a very close friendship between the two of them). If there are any relationships, they will be vague for the moment but as always I will let my story dictate where I go, but of course, I will listen to your opinions as well.

I have also released some new chapters to my yaoi original stories at my mugi sensei fictionpress id (link on my author's profile).

Thanks for reading and please keep supporting me!

Released on February 22, 2013.


	25. The deep green of jealousy, 1939

**Note:** Thanks for all the reviews and I'm sorry that it's been so long that most of you will had to reread the story to remember what it's about, but as always I'm grateful for the support. Thanks so much to GrrHatLet for reviewing each chapter with such thoughtful comments!

I hope quick updates will encourage you all to review and support this story!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**The deep green of jealousy/1939**

Tom was furious. He stormed back to his House, swiftly muttering the password and headed immediately to the fireplace in the Commons area. There was a few straggling Slytherins still there, but one look at him they quickly gathered their stuff together and headed back to their rooms. Tom quickly firecalled the only person he really talked about this sort of thing to, Abraxas.

"Yes, Tom?" Abraxas said as his bodiless head floated up from the fireplace. "What's so urgent that it could not wait until a more decent hour?"

Tom flushed, feeling quite unlike himself for all the rushed emotions he felt swirling inside of him. He was usually impeccably well-controlled; nothing phased him, nothing. He was about to open his mouth and blurt out everything, but for some reason he held himself back.

"Well?" Abraxas asked, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way that Tom knew meant he was studying him. "I know it must be important for you to firecall me at this hour. Come on, we are more than just mere friends, you can tell me anything."

"It's about Harry."

Abraxas nodded. "I figured it would be." When Tom didn't say anything further, Abraxas said, "I know how important he is to you. What happened this time?"

Tom leaned back against the wall, not looking at Abraxas, instead staring off into space. The emotions that had driven him to impulsively firecall his best friend were now abating enough for him to think about what he told Abraxas.

"I was waiting for Harry in his rooms," Tom remarked, deliberately making his voice sound nonchalant. "I don't remember how long I waited, but it was for several hours." Tom didn't know why he felt driven to lie to Abraxas when there was no reason to, but for some reason he didn't want to know that he had been upset that Harry had stayed late to converse with Dumbledore. "Harry was plastered when he came back."

Abraxas chuckled briefly before carefully schooling his face into a bland expression when Tom had shifted his gaze to his friend. "Are you upset that Harry kept you waiting or that he was having a good time without you?"

Tom gritted his teeth together, more than slightly annoyed that Abraxas had read him so well when he had already left out certain details. "I had wanted to discuss with Harry how to improve my Patronus and wasted several hours waiting for him for nothing."

"Well," Abraxas said, "Harry is still quite young, even if he seems old to you. He's got to have his bit of fun every now and then. You can't always keep him to yourself."

Tom resisted the urge to scowl since he was always very careful of how he appeared to others, even to Harry he never quite let down his guard. "He's at school now and he's a professor. He should know when he should be having fun and when not to."

Abraxas smiled and said, "Don't be so upset. If Harry doesn't have the time for you, I'm always here for you whenever you need. Now why don't you go to sleep and forget about this debacle?"

"Good night, Abraxas."

"Sweet dreams, Tom," Abraxas murmured before his face faded from view and Tom was left alone in the Commons.

Tom stared at the empty fireplace and wondered how Abraxas had picked up on his jealousy, even though it had been left unsaid. It bothered Tom that Abraxas knew how he was feeling even as he himself was coming to terms with the feelings. After all, the first time he had felt it had been in regards to finding out Harry and Abraxas had a relationship he hadn't even known about until his best friend had told him.

He had never questioned Harry about why he had kept his tutoring session with Abraxas a secret and he wondered more often than he liked to admit if he would have even known about it unless Abraxas himself had not come forth with the tidbit. It had bothered Tom that Abraxas had not just told him from the very start that he was being tutored by Harry, but that was nothing compared to how he felt that Harry had kept the matter from him. But he had let it slide without saying anything because he had felt so disturbed by his feelings that he had not wanted to confront them by confronting Harry.

Tom got to his feet and went up the narrow stairwell to the room he shared with his suitemates. He slipped into the room without making barely any noises and went to his bed and opened his trunk. Inside at the very bottom of his trunk were all the books that Harry had spelled for him over the years to look like books a Hogwarts student should have. He had various books on Dark Arts Theory, but what he was looking for were not the books that Harry had reluctantly purchased for him.

From the bottom of his trunk, he took out the false bottom and withdrew two book he had recently bought over the summer with his allowance without Harry's knowledge. They were books on Occlumency and Legilimency that Tom had stumbled upon when he had been reading about other types of magical skills that were not covered in a general magical curriculum. For some reason as much as the books on Dark Arts would have bothered Harry, Tom had the feeling Harry would be much more perturb to know he was dabbling in the reading and blocking of thoughts.

And it wasn't like Tom didn't trust Harry. There was no one he trusted more than Harry, but Tom also knew that because he trusted Harry and cared for him so deeply that there was no one else who could hurt and destroy him more than Harry.

If only he was certain of what was going on within the confines of Harry's mind, then he wouldn't have to fear the unknown because then everything would be known.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I don't really have much to say. I would just like to know if there's anything in particular you'd like to see in this story. Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing! I do like writing Tom, more and more as I get older and older!

Released on February 24, 2013.


	26. Solace at the end of the day, 1939

**Note:** I hope to be able to maintain this pace of updating! Thanks for all the reviews and support, they mean the world to me!

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**Solace at the end of the day/1939**

Harry knew before Abraxas had decided to firecall him during his break between classes that Tom was more than a little upset at him for yesterday night. "I do appreciate your concern," Harry stated to Abraxas' bodiless head. Even after all the years he had spent in the wizarding world, the idea of firecalling someone still didn't feel natural. "I think it's quite obvious he's upset at me."

"You have a tendency to be quite oblivious," Abraxas remarked. "Is it so wrong for me to watch out for you?"

If Harry was certain that Abraxas didn't have other motives, then perhaps not, but he was always conscious of the fact that Abraxas was a Malfoy and it was probably a family motto in which every action had a motive. The same was likely true for all Slytherins. Harry had found that over the last few years, since he had jumped from his timeline back intot he past, he was acting less and less like his former self. Maybe he was growing older and wiser; either way he was thinking a lot more before he acted.

"Do you remember what we talked about last time?" Abraxas said. "You should consider it more carefully as you're wasted here at Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts is the most prestigious wizarding school in the world and I am wasted here?" Harry said with a small laugh.

"The Ministry will need wizards like you," Abraxas stated. "This war, which is coming, is not a joking matter, _Harry_."

Having Abraxas call him by his name always jolted Harry as he had first been Abraxas's tutor then his professor. It sounded so wrong for a former student of his to call him by his given name, although when he thought about it, why was it when Tom called him by his name it felt natural?

Abruptly he heard someone knocking at his door and when he heard Tom's familiar voice calling his name, Harry looked back at Abraxas and smiled apologetically. "I've got a visitor."

"Tom, no doubt," Abraxas remarked. "Think on it. I know you're committed for the year, but the Ministry needs you."

With that, Abraxas disappeared from his fireplace and Harry quickly went to the door to his living quarters and threw it open. "Tom," he said, smiling at the boy who was quicly growing up in his eyes and would likely surpass him in height in the next year or so. "Come in."

"Were you busy?" Tom asked as he walked in. "I thought I heard you talking to someone."

Harry resisted the urge to lie as no good would come from it. He had already had a big enough lie he was hiding from Tom and the more and more lies he created, the more and more likely Tom was going to find out when he made a mistep. "Abraxas firecalled me."

Tom tilted his head. "I didn't know you two talked. I thought your tutoring sessions ended last year when Abraxas graduated."

"He sometimes calls me for advice," Harry replied smoothly. "I had forgotten to mention that we met up a few weeks ago and Abraxas, as you probably know, has been quite busy with his Ministry work. He has been trying to recruit me into the Office of Foreign Affairs."

"But that would mean you'd be leaving Hogwarts." Tom as usual didn't show much emotion in his face, but his voice was a different situation as it was changing, getting deeper and often broke a little when he was feeling strongly about something. At least, that was something Harry had noticed, although it might just be his wild imagination that Tom was even affected by him.

Sometimes Harry really didn't know how Tom felt about him. He knew in his own way that Tom cared about him, but how deeply Tom felt for him he didn't now. Tom had never been much for verbal affection, although Harry tried to show the younger boy in his own way how much he cared about him. But even though he knew he ought to be more verbally affectionate with Tom, he found it difficult himself to say openly what he was feeling too.

"I told him I wasn't interested."

Tom took a seat on the couch and stretched out his lanky body across the length of it. "What would you be doing for the Office of Foreign Affairs?"

"Not sure," Harry said as sat down on the other end of the couch, so that the two of them were facing each other. "Abraxas said it was confidential and he couldn't tell me until I at least agreed to be a contract wizard."

"Interesting," Tom remarked. "You would think he would at least tell you a little bit if he really wanted to lure you away from Hogwarts."

Harry shrugged. "I'm not interested in leaving anyways, so the point is moot."

"I'm glad," Tom said and smiled.

Harry had noticed that gradually over time, Tom was smiling more and more, although the frequency still wasn't what a normal boy of his age should be smiling, but it was better than nothing and Tom was sociable enough and certainly well-liked amongst his peers. Harry often heard the other professors comment on Tom's extraordinary characteristics and other than his interest in all magic, which unfortunately extended to the Dark Arts and Curses, he was the perfect role model.

"You're the best Professor at Hogwarts."

Harry chuckled at Tom's praise, even if it was an exaggeration. "I'm glad you think so highly of me."

"It's true," Tom said casually. "Slytherins don't give compliments easily, Harry, and you are the most liked professor other than Slughorn and he's our Head of House and we've got loyalty for one of ours."

"Loyalty is a good trait." Harry stifled a yawn. "I'm glad it's the start of term and there isn't any homework to grade yet."

"Are you going to complain incessantly about the students being dunderheads again?"

Harry put his finger up to his lips. "Hush. I shouldn't even be telling you about how I feel about work since you are a student here. And I do not complain incessantly."

Tom rolled onto his stomach and laid his head down on the couch. "You complained a lot."

"Well," Harry said a little bit defensively, "if the students would actually put in good effort on their homework then I wouldn't have to complain."

Some of his students really were complete dunderheads and he could almost _almost_ sympathize with Snape of all people! Although his homework had been no where near as bad as the worst of the lot, but even he had to admit he could have put in more effort in certain classes like Potions. Well, it hadn't interested him that much and Snape hadn't liked him, which had only made him less interested in putting in effort.

"I think I'm going to sleep here," Tom said. "Your couch is comfortable."

Harry nudged Tom with his foot. "Go back to your dorm room. I'm absolutely certain that a studentsleeping in a Professor's living quarters is strictly prohibited!"

"It's not like we're doing anything illicit," Tom muttered. "And everyone knows that you're my guardian."

"Still, if you're going to sleep go back to your dorms."

Tom sat up instead. "You didn't really think I was going to sleep at this hour, did you? It's not even midnight yet."

Harry glanced at the clock. "It's almost curfew though."

Tom slid down the couch until he was next to Harry. "You can write me a pass and then I can stay as long as I want."

"That would be favoritism—"

"Which is against the rules," Tom finished. "Stop lecturing to me like you're my parent. We both know I've never thought of you as my father."

Harry sighed. "I am still your guardian and moreover, I am also your professor."

Tom leaned against Harry. "You're more like my friend than anything else."

Harry was more than a little surprised at Tom's statement and he looked down at Tom. The younger boy had his head against his shoulder and his eyes were downcast. His face was relaxed and he looked content.

"Friends, eh?" Harry reached up and ruffled Tom's hair because it was the thing he did. "I suppose that's acceptable."

"No," Tom said, "more like outstanding."

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I thought that there needed to be some 1:1 Tom and Harry time since they haven't had any real interaction in 1939 yet. Thanks to the reviewer who pointed out the discrepancy in the years, I appreciate it and I have fixed it. We will probably spend a few more chapters in 1939-40 before I do another jump in the timeline. This may be the longest "year" since the first year when Harry came back in history. But we will see. As for clarification, I am highly unlikely to do any explicit pairing at this point and I cannot confirm if this will be slash or not, but there will definitely at least be what I call a "bromance." Very very close friendship, which I've always wanted to write between two male characters!

Released on February 27, 2013.


	27. A war from within, 1940

**Note:** Sorry this release took a bit longer than expected. I hope to continue to still update in a timely fashion. This chapter is a bit more introspective than I had at first thought and turned out quite nicely I think.

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**THE HAND OF FATE  
by Yih**

**A war from within/1940**

Classes were going well and many of his students had made significant progress in their spellwork over the last few months; alas, the world outside of Hogwarts was growing much darker and dangerous of late. The war had spilled over from the muggle world into the wizarding world as Harry knew it would. If he could have shielded them from this disaster he would have, but how do you prevent something on such a huge catastrophic level as this when you are one person?

And as Harry began to delve more and more into this timeline, he had also become aware that certain things seem to be changing. Minerva had proclaimed that Defense Against the Dark Arts was her favorite class and she would dearly like to follow in his footsteps and become a Professor like him. Maybe he was overthinking things, but if Minerva did not become Professor McGonagall of Transfiguration, what would happen to the future as he knew it?

How he had let so many years pass before he had decided to research time travel and the butterfly effect. His presence was not one small minor event. He had no grand ideas that he was a major effect, but he was a consistent minor effect on events. Who had been the Professor of Defense Against the Darks Arts in the years he had been teaching? He couldn't say because he'd never had much interest in reading through _Hogwarts, A History_ like Hermione.

Again he had been a reckless Gryffindor and not thought ahead like a Slytherin would. As much as he wished he could remain the honorable and brave Gryffindor of his former self, he was in a situation where being a Slytherin through and through was the best way to save himself and Tom.

Harry heard a familiar knock outside his door and he quickly shoved the books he was reading into his secret chest where he kept all the things that Tom must never see. If Tom saw the books he was reading, he would ask questions and questions must be answered because Tom was extremely persistent and if the answers didn't satisfy him, he'd only ask even more questions.

As Harry walked over to open the door to his living quarters, he was now aware that every little thing he did had enormous consequences. He had the vague thoughts that maybe the people he knew and love would no longer exist in this new future he was creating through his presence in the past, but he stopped himself from thinking of it because it would drive him crazy to think he had destroyed everyone he cared about when he had gone back in time to try and save them.

"Tom," he said and smiled at the younger boy. "Come for a chat?"

Since the beginning of third year, Tom had been coming to his living quarters nearly every evening. Though he had been teaching since Tom's first year at Hogwarts and they had often spent time together, it had never been this often. Harry wondered if it was because Abraxas was no longer at Hogwarts. Harry knew that even though Abraxas was several years Tom's senior, the older Slytherin had been easily Tom's closest friend.

Tom nodded and settled himself down on the couch and pulled out a textbook from his pocket and used an engorgement charm to resize the book back to its original size. "I find it easier to study here too."

"What are you studying?" Harry asked as he peered over Tom's shoulder to see what book he was reading, not recognizing any of the odd symbols and such in them. "Need any help?"

Tom laughed and shook his head. "You know for a brilliant wizard, you're rubbish at Ancient Runes."

"Never took it," Harry said. "I'm not much for theoretical magic, much better at the practical application."

Tom nodded. "I find it fascinating. To each their own."

Harry took a seat next to Tom on the couch and pulled out his own book. He had carefully spelled one of his books on the butterfly effect to be only readable to him. To anyone else, it looked like a book of muggle fiction. He needed to do this spell to all the books he didn't want Tom or anyone else to see, but when he spelled too many books like that, he invariably ended up misplacing them as they looked like very _average_ books in the piles of books he had all around his living quarters. As he surveyed the chaotically organized mess of his rooms, Harry decided that he really ought to attempt to organize the chaos at some point soon.

"What are you reading?" Tom asked, looking pointedly at Harry.

Harry held up the book to show him the title, _Of Human Bondage_ by W. Somerset Maugham. He had deliberately chosen this book because he had read it recently as Albus had made him the recommendation. Harry didn't much like reading, but the life of Philip Carey through the ups and downs had resonated with him.

"A muggle book?" Tom reached over to grab the book. "I didn't know you read muggle books."

"I find it fascinating at times," Harry stated carefully. "Wizards don't write much fiction and I cannot read tomes and texts all day long. I think it would drive me mad."

Tom shrugged after briefly scanning a few of the pages and handed the book back to him. "Was it any good?"

"I found it enjoyable and the message resounding."

Tom tilted his head. "What message?"

Harry was aware that Tom was extraordinary, he was easily the best student in his year and could his own against the upper years as well. In no time at all, he was going to be a great power in the wizarding world based on his talents. There was nothing he couldn't accomplish if he set his mind to it, but Harry didn't want that for Tom. He feared that if Tom got a taste of power, that taste would lead to temptation, and temptation would lead him astray. Harry didn't want Tom to become Lord Voldemort. He cared deeply for Tom and wanted him to be happy, and the road to power was not the path to happiness. And yet, who was he to say he knew what was best for Tom?

Harry was afraid that what he thought was best, what he thought would make Tom happiest were all thoughts that were tainted by his desire to prevent Tom from becoming Lord Voldemort. Maybe it didn't matter what he did. Maybe the big events that had to occur in life would occur no matter the minor effect he had on smaller events here. Harry turned the pages in his book to where he last left off. He was reading the chapter on the many possible changes to insignificant events not leading to significant changes in major events because somehow certain things must happen no matter what. What if this was all for nothing? All these years of toil and the result still the same? And perhaps, even worse?

"What message?" Tom asked again, nudging him with his elbow.

Harry smiled apologetically. "I shall need to read you my favorite line in the book first, which is: 'Had he not seen also that the simplest pattern, that in which a man was born, worked, married, had children, and died, was likewise the most perfect?' I think it a beautiful sentiment. That the simplest path of life is the most perfect existence."

"The simplest path of life is the most perfect existence," Tom repeated. "Do you believe that is true?"

"I would like to," Harry stated. "Because what artificial meaning must you put into life? We all live and die, and I think as long as you have people you love and care about, then no matter what, life is meaningful. All else matter naught."

"If you have people who love and care about you, then I suppose," Tom said.

Harry was surprised at the edge to Tom's voice. He reached over and pulled Tom to him in a tight hug. "I care about you," he said and for the first time he was not scared to admit in his heart and outloud to Tom, "and I love you."

And he did love Tom, and he hoped that loving Tom was redemption enough for both.

**TBC**

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**Please review!**

**A/N:** I read the novel _Of Human Bondage_ in college and it left a truly lasting impression on me. I think it a lovely novel and one of the best that I've read. I'm glad that I am able to put a little of it in here. I wasn't really intending on writing this chapter, but I think it's high time after the years they have spent together for Harry to tell Tom and to acknowledge to himself how deeply he cares for the younger boy. And I think it time to talk about the consequences of time-traveling, just to know I'm not ignoring the so-called butterfly effect.

Thanks for reading and supporting! Til next time!

Released on March 5, 2013.


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